


It's you and me (against the world)

by Mimozka



Series: Olicity / Eliza AU [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 1769 England, Action, Conspiracy, Drama, F/M, Romance, Suicide, based on an italian TV show that I love, nobleman falls in love with a servant AU, period au, rating may change later on, there's a list
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimozka/pseuds/Mimozka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starling, England 1769. </p><p>Earl Oliver Queen returns home after a decade in the French army. Before he leaves he’s given a list containing the name of conspirators who wish to assassinate King George III.</p><p>Miss Felicity of Starling has been the companion and care-giver to Dowager Countess Moira for several years now. A bright, kind woman, Felicity is nothing but a servant in the Countess’ home, but possesses the manners and disposition of a true lady. </p><p>Sparks fly when the two of them meet in the library of Starling Manor, but when Felicity’s position in society is revealed and danger peeks from every corner, their love would be tested in ways they never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Hi all, thank you for giving this a chance. Unlike my other wip updates here should be pretty straight forward because this fic is based on an Italian TV series (Elisa di Rivombrosa) and the plot is all figured out (for the most part anyway). The chapters will be long since two chapters will cover one episode. 
> 
> This fic is by no means 100% historically accurate, nor does it aim to be. I've tried to keep it believable to the best of my ability. Many thanks to srmiller, sophie1973 and aka-felicity-smoak for reading this over and providing feedback.
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

 

**_Starling, England 1769_ **

The only noises heard through the forest, in the middle of a beautiful, sunny, April day, was the galloping of two horses and the sound of laughter belonging to the people on them. To anyone who might be watching it looked like two men enjoying their beloved hobby - for the two riders, racing made them feel free in a world that was very restricting to someone of stature.

They galloped out of the forest and into the corn fields, waving at the villagers working the fields, and from there took a right turn towards their home - Starling Manor.

“Victory!” Barry announced happily, jumping off his saddle.

His partner arrived only seconds after him and got off their horse with a smile on their face.

“My dear Felicity, I win!” Barry said, taking his horse by the reins and leading it towards the stables. 

Felicity followed suit, leaping off her horse and taking off her riding hat to reveal long, flowing, blond hair and a freckled, sun-kissed face.

“You cheated.” she corrected him, but there was no malice in her voice.

“No, I am very certain I won. You are merely a sore loser.” Barry teased her.

“Some victory.” Felicity scoffed. “The poor villagers, you destroyed half of their field.”

“The villagers are always cross about one thing or another, while servants like you and I know only how to complain, didn’t you know that?” Barry said “Besides, there was no rule about me not being able to take a shortcut.”

“Then, next time, we’ll have to make sure we have stricter rules.” Felicity decided. “I will see you at dinner, Barry, I must go, her Ladyship is probably waiting for me.”

“Go, go, I’ll take care of the horses. It’s my job, anyway,” Barry assured her with a smile and watched her disappear into the manor.

He knew it was silly, the love he harboured for her. It was clear to everyone she did not reciprocate his feelings, she had even told him as much, yet he always showed her nothing but kindness. In a world as cold and calculating as theirs, a little genuine affection was sorely needed.

They hadn’t known each other very long, but in the short time they’d been acquainted they’d become extraordinarily close friends. He didn’t want to ever lose that.  He kept hoping that perhaps with time she would come to see him as a man instead of a brother, but if it were to ever happen it would have to be on her terms.

And if friendship was all he could get for the time being, then so be it.

* * *

Felicity was putting away her riding jacket when the door to her room opened through which  Marchioness Lyla Blud entered – the intimidating, and somewhat cold, eldest daughter of the Countess of Starling. She was also the wife of Marques Blud who was overseeing the state of Starling Manor since the death of the Earl and in the absence of the Dowager Countess’ only son and heir.

“This is absolutely irresponsible of you,” The Marchioness told Felicity angrily. “You are my mother’s caregiver and companion and not some wild woman who rides in the fields with stable boys all day long!”

Felicity had long learned that it was no use talking back to the Marchioness, nor was it any use to try and change her mind once it had been set. She was as stubborn as her mother. Apart from that, Lady Lyla (as a true lady of the ton) held traditions and etiquette in the highest regard. Nothing irritated her quite as much as impropriety.

Still, Felicity suspected that she wasn’t all cold and unfeeling as she seemed at first glance. She’d had the chance to observe Lady Lyla with her ten-year-old daughter, little Lady Emily, and she seemed to genuinely love her only child. She was also very gentle with her old mother – Dowager Countess Moira. Lady Lyla and her husband Marques Blud had moved to the manor after the Countess had taken ill.

And if Lady Lyla was cold and harsh, then the Marques was downright repulsing. It was no secret that he did not care at all for the state of the Starling estate – only for the profit it would bring him. He cared not for his wife, nor for his daughter. Only for himself.

On her bad days, a small part of Felicity thought they deserved each other. but then she would immediately feel regret at the thought because no one deserved such a vile creature as the Marques for a husband.

Lady Emily, however, was nothing like her parents. Where they were cold and strict, she was kind, pleasant and generously affectionate. In fact, she reminded Felicity distinctly  of Thea – her little sister, who was only several years older than Lady Emily herself. The young girl would often come and sit in the library and listen to Felicity read to Lady Moira. Felicity and Emily quickly struck an affectionate friendship despite the age gap between them, much to Lady Lyla’s dismay.

Lady Lyla looked at Felicity’s appearance in a scrutinizing manner, her distaste clear as day on her face.

“And on top of everything you dress like a man. The shame!”

“My Lady, we were simply – “ Felicity knew there was no point to argue, but she hated to be talked to like that, servant girl or not.

“Silence!”  Lady Lyla cut her off harshly. “I did not ask for your opinion. Just because my mother has gone soft and has taken you in to live in the manor with us, doesn’t mean that you’re one of _us_. If you cannot behave like a proper companion, then you can go back to the inn you used to work for.”

“Yes, my lady.” Felicity replied, looking Lady Lyla straight in the eye.

“Do not forget that the sole reason you are here is because my dear mother wishes it. Had it been for me to decide, you would still be living in misery along with your mother and sister. Is that understood, _Madam_ Felicity of Starling?” Lyla chided her.

“Yes,” Felicity said, bowing her head.

“Dress appropriately and go to my mother, immediately.” Lady Lyla ordered and walked out of the room in the same impassioned manner she had walked in.

Felicity did change her clothes and she was reeling as she did so. Once she was sure the Marchioness was out of earshot, she let out all the arguments she had wanted to give the older woman. It was ridiculous to Felicity social class dictated the treatment of people. She may be a servant girl but she had worked hard for everything she had. Getting the position of companion to her Ladyship was the result of lifelong work. She deserved respect for that if for nothing else.

With one last glance at the small looking glass in her room, to make sure she was presentable for her mistress, she left for the library.

* * *

“Lyla has only ever raised her voice on the servants,” Lady Moira sighed, turning away from the open window in the library and reaching out for Felicity to take her hand and help her to her favourite armchair. “Instead of that scoundrel of a husband of hers. “

“My Lady, if I may, you are being too harsh on your daughter,” Felicity objected, walking to the small desk to retrieve the book of Greek tragedies she’d been reading to Lady Moira. “She is very strict, but she loves Lady Emily with all of her heart. Even the Marquess – “

“The Marquess is an incompetent fool.” Lady Moira cut her off passionately

. “He does not care at all for Starling or the estate and has love for no one but himself.”

Felicity had to suppress a smile at that. Despite her old age – and rumours her wits had left her a long time ago – Lady Moira was as sharp as Felicity suspected she had always been. There was clearly no love lost between the Dowager Countess and the Marquess Blud. This time, Felicity offered no rebuttal to her mistress’ words. She happened to agree wholeheartedly with them. It was only her lowly social status that prevented her from voicing her opinion.

“The only thing his Lordship is interested in when it comes to Starling is to take the gold from our treasury.” Lady Moira sighed, her voice getting that heavy, breathless quality to it which was a sign she was overtaxing herself.

“My Lady, you know you must not over excite yourself. It is bad for your health.” Felicity rushed back to her mistress, book in hand.

“My dear Felicity, all has gone so wrong.“ Lady Moira said sadly. “My only son and heir, who could oversee and manage things at the estate, enlisted in the army and we haven’t seen him in ten years.”“He will return. I am sure of it.”

Felicity smiled kindly at her, squeezing the old lady’s hand in support.

* * *

**Somewhere in North England**

It was another day of training for Lord Oliver Queen. He had risen through the ranks of the army despite the initial doubt and mockery of his commanding officers. He was a high-ranking nobleman from a very respectable family in the royal court. As the family’s only living male heir he had never really taken part in battles, unless drunken bar fights fights with his childhood friend Lord Thomas counted, of course. However, ten years after he put on the uniform found him training recruits in the army’s northern headquarters. He was well known for his excellent sword-fighting, indisputable honour and fierce, genuine loyalty to his comrades and the crown.

His hair was tied back and he had stripped off his uniform prior to the training session, preferring to train in his breeches and shirt only.

“An officer of the army needs no commands,“ he instructed the three recruits while fending all of their attacks. “For he already knows what must be done.” He pushed his opponent back and pointed his sword at all of them in a silent challenge once more.

“An officer is loyal to himself – En garde! “ He lunged forward and attacked the recruits, moving swiftly from one to another, “He is loyal to himself, but before all he is loyal to His Majesty King George III!”

He fell back, the duel died down and the men stared at him as he spoke.

“The crown, discipline, loyalty, and courage,” Lord Oliver said, his eyes fixing on each soldier as he spoke. “None of which, as far as I can see, any of you possess,” he told them sternly.

During his speech his commanding officer, Captain Orwell, arrived and stood off to the side to observe Lord Oliver instruct the young men.

“Lord Oliver Queen!” He called out, effectively putting an end to the training session. “You are, as always, too harsh on the men,” he noted.

Oliver turned around to face Captain Orwell and smiled at the sight of him. The two had fought beside each other for years and Oliver respected the man immensely. Orwell always ignored Oliver’s pleas to omit his title. He had a rank in the army, after all, but the more he insisted the more Orwell addressed him with his title. However, after all this time, Oliver knew that his captain was only trying to get a rise out of him.

“This is the way I was raised,” he grinned, his shoulders rising in a small shrug as he approached the captain.

With a last dismissive wave towards the recruits, Oliver left the training grounds and followed the captain to a quieter corner of the yard.

“I hear you will be taking leave to return to Starling,” he captain commented as they walked.

Oliver nodded solemnly. “I have been away for far too long, sir, and I received a note about my mother being very sick. Why do you ask?”

Captain Orwell paused for a moment before answering, looking discreetly around them to see if anyone was listening in to their conversation. He grabbed Oliver’s arm and pulled him closer until there was almost no distance between them.

“I wish to entrust you with a task, Queen, but I’m happy to say it won’t distance you any further from your home,” he said quietly. “I must warn you though, it’s quite dangerous.”

Oliver snorted. “If it weren’t dangerous you would trust someone else with it, wouldn’t you?”

The captain smiled at Oliver and patted his arm in agreement. “Indeed, old friend.”

Orwell handed Oliver a sealed letter.

“These documents are of vital importance,” the captain said in a flat, grave tone. “I am not at liberty to disclose their contents, but just know the life of His Majesty might depend on them.”

Oliver gave him a curt nod and went to deposit the papers in the small pouch he kept on his horse.

“Who should I deliver them to?” he asked.

“Captain Henry Lawrence. I have arranged for you to meet him at a clearing in the forest outside Wallingford on the right shore of the river Thames. Give them to him and no one else,” Orwell instructed. “Be careful, our enemies are many and they are without mercy.”

“I can be merciless as well, sir, you know that,” Oliver countered with a small smile.

Orwell clapped his shoulder and smiled.

“You are a man worthy of your stature, Oliver Queen. The only thing left to say is goodbye, old friend.” He paused a moment before adding,  “Have a safe journey and good luck.”

Orwell watched Oliver mount his horse and saluted him one last time before the young Earl mounted his horse and disappeared beyond the bend of the road with the fate of the monarchy in his hands.

* * *

**Starling Estate - two days later**

Felicity rushed into Lady Moira’s chambers to find her mistress lying in bed, her face tired and as pale as a sheet.

The elderly housekeeper, Raisa - as she insisted on being called, etiquette be damned - who was also a dear friend to Felicity, ushered her into the room. Felicity’s heart dropped at the worried look on Raisa’s face.

“My lady, how do you feel?” Felicity asked, trying to erase all worry from her face. “Should I call for a physician?”

“What for, my dear?” Moira scoffed, she didn’t like doctors.

“I dreamt of Oliver,” Moira admitted quietly, her eyes wandering towards the portrait of her son which hung in her room next to the one of her daughter. “He was dead. Murdered. Lying next to a stream, somewhere in the mountains.”

Felicity squeezed the older woman’s hand in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Lady Moira often had dreams about her son’s fate and no one could blame her for being so afraid. There always seemed to be one conflict or another going on. Felicity didn’t have any children of her own but if anything happened to Thea - her little sister - she didn’t know how she would get over it, if she ever would.

“Do you believe in omens, Felicity?” Moira asked her, her voice brimming with concern as she clutched at Felicity’s hand.

“No, my lady.” Felicity told her “Sometimes fear drives our minds to conjure up false images. I am absolutely certain his lordship is in perfect health and you will see him soon.” There was a glint in her eye as she spoke, as if she was privy to some information Moira wasn’t.

Felicity read to her some more and watched her mistress drift off to sleep.

* * *

**The Royal Court, London.**

Marquess Raymond Palmer, the king’s royal secretary, leaned back in his chair.

“His Majesty believes hanging half of the noblemen in this country is a bad idea, even if he is aware hey conspire against him.”

His companion pushed himself away from his desk and turned around to face Palmer with a calculating look on his face.

“The king is wise.” he finally said, reaching for his glass of brandy.

“This list is direly needed,” Palmer continued as if the other man hadn’t spoken. “We need to know the names of the people who take part in the conspiracy against the king. We shall imprison some and you will see the rest will fall back into place and their loyalty will never waver again.”

His companion tensed ever so slightly at that statement but willed himself not to react. He couldn’t stand Palmer - the old, pompous, self-righteous bastard with his morality and etiquette.

“Do I have your word this list will arrive in London as soon as possible, chancellor?” Palmer asked, as he got up and reached for the other man’s hand to shake it.

Duke Malcolm Merlyn, Lord Chancellor of the kingdom, nodded as he  guided Palmer through his office and towards the door. “Do pass my regards to His Majesty and tell him his precious list is in trusted hands.”

He paused at the door and added with a small smile, “Oh and do pass my regards to your wife, Lady Isabelle, as well.”“I trust I need not repeat how important the list is for the monarchy,” Palmer said as he turned back around to face Merlyn.

“No,” Merlyn grinned politely, forcing a smile on his face. “You do not.”

He inclined his head in a gesture of parting. “Adviser Palmer.”

“Chancellor Merlyn,” Palmer repeated the gesture and finally - finally! - left, taking his guards with him.

Merlyn relaxed as soon as the doors closed behind them.

“Praise the gods, he is gone at last!” he exclaimed as he headed straight for his bookcase. He pulled a small latch in the middle section and the shelves glided backwards to reveal an entry to a small chamber.

A young woman, dressed in a green dress of the latest fashion, adorned in brilliant heavy jewelry and an elaborate hat came out not a moment after.

“You are free, Madam.” Merlyn announced, assisting her through the passage.

“My husband is an utter fool.” the lady commented, head held high. “When you mentioned me he did not say a word.”

Merlyn gave her a sardonic smile, “Then he clearly does not deserve you.” Lady Isabelle kept walking towards the ornate sofa.

“Only the fates can orchestrate such a comedy.” she noted with a grin. “To have _you_ , of all people, in charge of keeping the list safe.”

“And I will do so.” Merlyn assured her, his gaze dropping down to her cleavage once they’ve stopped by the window he had stood next to earlier. “I will keep it so safe that no one shall ever hear of it again.”

Merlyn was standing so close to her now that he could feel her breath on his cheek.

“You are not only cunning, but you are also quite lucky, _Malcolm,_ ” Isabelle complimented as her voice adopted a husky, seductive quality.

Merlyn’s only response was to trail his hand from the top of her neck and over her cleavage, letting his finger dip ever so slightly between the top of her breasts.

“That would be because I have a _friend_ like you, Isabelle,” he whispered in her ear. “And did I mention? You look absolutely stunning.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver makes the exchange. The Dowager Countess needs a Doctor. We meet Diggle and Oliver and Felicity meet each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh, what the hell. It was originally supposed to be one chapter anyway.

* * *

**Starling Estate**

“Barry!” Felicity called out, running through the yard and into the stables, holding her dress up in her hands so as not to trip over the hem in her haste.

Barry looked up from the hoof he was cleaning, a young sorrel who was bored with the task and kept trying to stomp on Barry’s toes, and smiled brightly at Felicity, his grin slightly smug

“What is it? You’d like a rematch?”

“No,” Felicity rolled her eyes, slightly out of breath. “I need you to prepare a horse for me.”

Barry sobered up immediately. “No. Absolutely not.” He shook his head again for emphasis, “You know what Lady Lyla said. She’ll have my head.”

“Lady Lyla is not here.” Felicity insisted and turned around to take a spare saddle from a nearby stand.

She thrust it straight into Barry’s hands, “So please saddle me a horse.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, taking it from her because he knew by now arguing with her was a futile endeavor for all involved.

“Lady Moira is unwell again.”

Barry shook his head furiously, “Don’t tell me you are going to go to doctor John Diggle.”

“Of course!” Felicity protested. “Do you know another doctor?”

“Yes, plenty of them.” Barry objected.

“I mean a doctor who will not medicate half his patients to death.”

hen Barry couldn’t manage to rebuke her statement Felicity smiled in triumph because the truth was Dr Diggle was the best doctor in the whole county of Starling.

Once Barry had saddled up the horse, the fastest he’d assured her, she rode furiously out of the manor and towards the outskirts of the village where the doctor lived with his wife.

“Felicity!” Came the cheerful greeting from Carly Diggle when the woman had come outside, at the sound of the horse coming up her drive. She’d likely been curious to see who had come to visit, especially since her husband was currently visiting a patient and they did not have many friends.

She wore the simplest of gowns in a cream colour which complimented the darker tone of her skin.

“Hello Carly,” Felicity greeted her as she swung down from the saddle and embraced her friend quickly. “Is your husband home?”

“No, I’m afraid not, but he should be back soon.” Carly replied and took Felicity’s hand, “Do come inside, it’s been so long since you’ve come to visit us.”

Felicity allowed herself to be led into  the small, humble home and sat down at the empty, wooden dining table across from Carly.

“Are you ill?” Carly asked worriedly.

“I came about the Countess.” Felicity said simply.

Carly grimaced slightly and her face adopted a pained expression. “Felicity, you know John is forbidden to set foot on the estate.”

Felicity sighed, the gentry and their ridiculous rules, “Yes, I know, but my mistress is very sick and John is the best doctor around… Besides, Lady Lyla and her family left earlier for their home in the capital so no one will be the wiser.”

Carly snorted at her friend’s spirit and reached for  some fruit and bread which was kept on the table. “Here, you should eat something.”

“Oh, Carly, you shouldn’t fuss.” Felicity objected. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Eggs and milk are things we have plenty of.” Carly said, standing so she could pour Felicity a glass. “How else would the villagers pay John?”

“He is very loved in the village.” Felicity remarked fondly.

“But he is also very poor,” Carly added sadly. “Because of me.”

Felicity grabbed her hand. “No it’s not!” she objected passionately.

Carly slumped back into her chair, “Then whose fault is it?” Resigned, and Felicity was sure more than a little sad she, covered her face with her hands.

The truth was Carly’s spirits seemed to be worse each time Felicity  came to call it worried Felicity more than a little. She hadn’t mentioned it to Diggle because she knew he was already worried for his wife and she didn’t want to cause him more concern by voicing hers out loud.

“I think about it every day.” Carly said, looking up at Felicity across the table. “It’s the first thought which crosses my mind in the morning and the last one before I got to sleep at night. Each day I pray that God will forgive me for my selfishness.”

“Carly, you fell in love. Love is not selfishness!” Felicity objected, getting up from her chair and walking over to kneel beside her friend.

“Oh but it is,” Carly argued, desperation reeking out of her every syllable.

“I fooled myself into believing love can overcome any and all obstacles and I could have something I had no place wanting in the first place,” Carly confessed, taking her friend’s hand in hers, as if it was some great sin. “After all, I’m only a servant girl…”

Felicity didn’t know what to say, which was rare, she simply didn’t know how to comfort her friend.

“If it weren’t for me he would be in his proper home now, with his proper name, title and fortune. But instead of that he got me - the servant - and this house…” Felicity could see that Carly’s eyes had filled with tears. “Ordinary people like you and I are used to this sort of life, but he was born a nobleman… I can’t help but think that he has regrets.”

Before Felicity could think of something to say, or make any move to comfort her friend, they heard John Diggle’s voice call out to her.

“Carly, are you home?” his footsteps grew louder until he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Dr Diggle,” Felicity rose to her feet and gave him a quick curtsy and a smile.

“Hello, Felicity,” he greeted her warmly, dropping his equipment bag to the floor. “What brings you to us today?”

\---------------------------------------

**The Royal Court, London**

Merlyn stood next to the royal palace’s gates along with Lady Isabelle. They were waiting for her carriage to arrive and take her home to the countryside when Lieutenant Harper and his subordinates arrived on horseback. All were armed and fully aware of the importance of their mission.

“We are ready to leave, your Grace.” Roy Harper announced.  

“Excellent.” Merlyn said “The man carrying the list will meet you at a clearing on the edge of the forest near Wallingford, next to the river Thames. Captain Lawrence is an officer of His Majesty King George III, you will spot him easily. You will escort him back to court and will make sure no harm comes to him.” he ordered.

Roy nodded silently and signaled for his fellow soldiers to follow him.

“Are they going to take care of it?” Lady Isabelle approached Merlyn once the soldiers had gone.

“No,” Merlyn replied. “Harper is a true soldier and too loyal for such a task.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at his words “Then why are you sending him to do it?”

Merlyn let out a small laugh under his breath. “My dear, this is merely the official escort. They won’t ever meet the Captain. I’ve arranged for them to arrive later than the agreed upon hour.”

That seemed to satisfy Isabelle and she smiled at him. “In that case, I expect to hear from you soon and I hope to have the pleasure to welcome you in my home.”

“I will gladly fulfill both your wishes, my lady.” Merlyn took her hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of her hand. “Goodbye.”

Lady Isabelle curtsied and let him help her up into her carriage.

Once she was gone, the duke hurried back to his office where the mercenary was already waiting for him.

“Lawrence’s escort left but moments ago, if you hurry and take the agreed upon route, you should arrive well before them.” he told the middle-aged man.

“I remind you once more this task is of the utmost importance. You have two days to bring these documents back to me.” Merlyn added, opening the drawer of his desk and grabbing a small leather pouch.

“What about the messenger, your grace?” asked the mercenary.

Merlyn threw the pouch on his desk and the noise its contents made against the wood was unmistakable - it was filled with a generous amount of gold.

“I don’t need him.” Merlyn said simply in an almost bored tone.

The mercenary smiled. That was the answer he was hoping for.

\----------------------

**Somewhere in the forests of Wallingford, Southern England**

Oliver was tired. He had spent the past two - almost three - days on the back of his horse. Had Orwell not given him the extra task delivering the documents to the king’s messenger, he would have stopped at an inn along the way but he did not want to risk being attacked or caught by bandits or an enemy of the crown, so he had worked his beloved horse, Hermes, into exhaustion. Perhaps after he handed the letters he could find a nice chilly spot near the river and rest for a bit.

He kept galloping through fields and valleys, roads and forests, crossing streams and riding alongside rivers in his desire to get to his destination as quickly as possible. Every now and again he would slow down and check the pouch attached to his saddle to assure himself everything was still in place. Ten years in the army taught him a great many things, the most important of which was one can never be too careful.

It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the meeting place. It helped that he knew the region well - his own estate was about three hours’ ride from Wallingford and he used to accompany his father on hunts in this area from time to time.

Captain Lawrence was already waiting for him. Oliver was pleased, punctuality was a trait he admired greatly.

He dismounted his horse and approached the man somewhat cautiously.

“Captain Lawrence?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Oliver Queen, Earl of Starling?” the Captain asked back.

Oliver nodded mutely.

“You are very punctual, sir.” Lawrence remarked. “I believe you have something for me,” he added after a moment’s pause.

Oliver walked back to his horse and retrieved the sealed letters.

“Where is your escort, Captain?” Oliver asked, looking around to take in their surroundings.

“It should arrive soon.” Lawrence replied, sounding less concerned than Oliver about it. Almost nonchalant.

“I trust you’ve had an easy journey,” Lawrence said once Oliver had handed him the documents.

“Yes, indeed, it was tiring but I have experienced worse.” Oliver answered. He couldn’t get rid of this feeling in the pit of his stomach, something wasn’t right.

The shot rang through the woods soon after and it seemed twice as loud in the otherwise silent forest. Oliver’s reaction was instantaneous - a result of his training, field experience and sharp instincts. He took out his own pistol and shot in the direction of the assailant (who had been stupid enough to show himself after the shot). He cursed himself when he missed.

He turned around to ask Lawrence for his pistol only to find the man lying on the ground, clutching at his chest. Oliver scrambled towards the captain and took the pistol from other man’s limp hand. He aimed and fired. The dull thud and cry of pain was enough confirmation he had succeeded in hitting his target this time. Oliver didn’t bother checking on the man, his aim was true and he was aiming to kill.

Oliver turned his attention back to the wounded captain.

“You’re losing a lot of blood, captain, and quickly,” he told him, pressing on the wound in the man’s chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “We need to get you to the town and seek a physician.”

Oliver made an attempt to lift Lawrence, but the captain stopped him.

“Run!” he hissed. “Save the list. Save the king!”

His words gave Oliver pause. “What list?”

“The documents contain a list of people who conspire against the crown,” Lawrence’s words were barely above a whisper at this point and Oliver had to lean closer to hear him.

“You must deliver the list to the king. To the king only.” Lawrence said and went limp in Oliver’s arms before he could say anything more.

Stunned, Oliver took the documents from the captain’s own pouch and placed them in the inner pocket of his uniform coat.

He heard the sound of hooves and distant chatter of men coming from the trees which he quickly concluded must be the escort. He hurried over to his horse and mounted him, if the situation was as delicate as Lawrence had made it seem then these soldiers might not be loyal to the crown. He couldn’t afford to let the list fall into their hands.

So much for the rest he’d hoped for. Oliver dug his heels into Hermes’ sides and disappeared from view as fast as he could.

\----------------------

**Starling Estate**

“My lady, you should make a full recovery as long as you continue to drink the remedy I gave you and you rest.” Dr Diggle concluded with a smile and paused before adding, “I’m happy to tell you that you are not gravely ill.”

“My only illness is age,” Lady Moira said with with a smile which was oddly sarcastic.

“Currently, your only illness is your low spirits,” Diggle replied, he’d always liked the countess and her honesty. “Felicity told me that you have been very anxious lately.”

“Did she now?” Lady Moira fixed her gaze on Felicity who averted her eyes, but there was no malice in the old lady’s voice.

“Felicity, fetch some coins and pay the doctor,” Lady Moira told her.

Felicity curtsied and did as she was told, leaving the countess alone with Diggle.

“There is no need, my lady, I assure you.” Diggle hurried to inform her.

Before his marriage to Carly he used to be a frequent visitor in her home and a good friend to Lord Oliver. They were like family to him.

“My dear doctor, you know I don’t like to be challenged.” Moira told him sternly.

Diggle sighed. He knew it was no use arguing with the woman. Stubbornness was a trait which seemed to pass through generations in the Queen family and it wasn’t a trait Lady Lyla and Oliver had gotten from their father. This much Diggle knew.

“As you wish, my lady. Thank you.” He sighed and pressed a quick kiss to the back of Lady Moira’s hand.

“You must take good care of yourself, madam.” he added and turned around to grab his bag.

Moira laughed. “Don’t worry, doctor, I have no plans to die; not until my son is back in Starling.”

“Do you know when that will be, my lady?” Diggle asked, his eyes becoming a little bit brighter at the prospect of seeing his old friend again.

“Unfortunately not,” Lady Moira sighed. “But not a day passes without my wishing that he would walk through those doors, “ she motioned at the doors to her chambers.

“Alas, it seems these are nothing but the dreams of a sick mother,” she concluded sadly.

“In that case, I hope your dreams come true, Countess.” Diggle said kindly and put on his hat.

“Do pass on my regards to your wife, John.” Lady Moira said softly.

Diggle’s face brightened even more at her words, so much so he gave her a rare, genuine smile.

“She will be very happy to receive them, my Lady, thank you.”

“I hear she is a good wife, “ Moira remarked, “In the end, that is all that matters, is it not?”

Diggle nodded and turned around to see Felicity return with a small pouch of coins.

“Would you see him out, Felicity?” Moira asked Felicity.

“Yes, my lady,” Felicity curtsied.

“I’m leaving you in good care, my lady, your companion cares about you very much.” Diggle remarked fondly.

“Yes, and the feeling is entirely mutual.” Moira replied.

With that Felicity led Diggle out of the room and through the corridors of the manor.

“I did not wish to scare her, but I am afraid you were right to be concerned,” Diggle confessed once they were out of the countess’ earshot.

“Her heart is very weak, I do not believe she has a lot of time left. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do for her.” Diggle added sadly.

“If only Lord Oliver would return home,” Felicity sighed.

“Felicity, I don’t think he will be coming home.” Diggle remarked.

“How can you be certain?” Felicity asked, taking the last turn which would lead them to the terrace outside.

“Has he written home?” Diggle asked, slowing his step a little so that Felicity wouldn’t have to hurry down the stairs.

“No he has not, but I wrote to him,” she admitted.

“I beg your pardon?” her words made Diggle halt and he turned to face Felicity with a slightly alarmed expression.

“I beg you not to mention anything to Lady Moira. For all I know the letter could have gotten lost in the mail,” Felicity said

They reached the bottom of the stairs where Diggle’s horse-drawn cart was waiting, along with his wife Carly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But you must remember the countess must not over excite herself under any circumstances,” he cautioned her sternly.

“John,” Felicity called after him softly, causing him to turn back and face her, “Do you think a person can be taken ill with grief?”

Diggle sighed, “You see how Carly is…” he trailed off sadly, looking at his wife stare gloomily at the estate’s luxurious gardens.

“Yes,” Felicity whispered. “If there is anything I can do for you?” she added, albeit a bit uncertainly.

Diggle squeezed her hand in gratitude. “Thank you, Felicity. The fact she agreed to accompany today is already a good sign, but thank you nevertheless.”

With that he wished her farewell and headed for his wife.

“How did it go?” Carly asked him once he was seated beside her.

“Very well,” Diggle smiled, “In fact, her ladyship passes her regards to you.”

Carly smiled in disbelief, for the first time in days, Diggle noted.

“Truly?” she gasped, suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Yes, of course,” Diggle nodded. “You are my wife, after all.”

Just before the horses carried them away he turned back to Felicity who was still standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Don’t forget the remedy, Felicity.” he called out to her.

\-----------------------------------

**The Royal Court, London**

“You are certain there were no documents?” Merlyn asked once more. He’d been pacing in his office ever since Lieutenant Harper delivered the news to him. He finally came to a halt mere inches before the man.

“There was absolutely nothing?” he repeated again. If Harper was uncomfortable by his proximity he didn’t show it.

“No, your grace, Captain Lawrence must have lost them if they were on his person, we found nothing,” Harper recounted flatly.

“Although we did notice a horseman riding nearby,” he added after a moment’s silence, suddenly remembering this seemingly unimportant detail. “He wore an army uniform.”

“Did you recognise him?” Merlyn inquired.

“No, your grace, we attempted to give chase, but he managed to evade us.” Harper admitted, lowering his head.

Merlyn said nothing. His clenched fists were the only sign of his temper.

“My apologies, your grace,” Harper said.

“So you believe Captain Lawrence had company?” Merlyn asked, starting to pace again.

“Yes, your grace, we believe it was a friend rather than a foe and he must now have the documents.”

Merlyn paused, it was not an implausible possibility and one which was definitely worth investigating. However, he had no time for petty thieves.

He turned around to face Harper “The person you mentioned does not exist.” he stated.

“But your grace - !” Harper objected immediately.

“He does not exist. Neither you nor any of your fellow soldiers ever saw or heard him when you arrived. I do not wish to appear a fool. His Majesty tasks us with securing state documents and what do we have to show him? - a dead corpse of a lowlife assassin!” Merlyn raised his voice and walked away to his desk to pour himself a glass of brandy.

He took a generous swig out of the glass and when he spoke next his voice was calmer. “We will conduct our own unofficial investigation into the matter and we will find this mysterious person, but until we do, as far as the court is concerned, these documents have disappeared into thin air. Is that clear?”

“Yes, your grace.” Harper nodded, barely managing to conceal the distaste from his voice.

\---------------------------------

**Starling Estate**

It was almost sunset by the time Oliver arrived at the gates of his home. A home he had sorely missed throughout the years. Despite his tiredness - the adrenaline from the altercation long since gone - he couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the manor and gardens in front of him.

It all looked exactly as he remembered. He was half-tempted to gallop all the way to the stables in his impatience to see his mother again, but he decided to slow down and take in his surroundings instead. As his horse trotted calmly through the lawn Oliver felt a sense of peace wash over him. Peace which can only be felt in the security of one’s home.

\--------

“Barry! Barry!”

Barry rolled his eyes at the sound of his sister’s shrill voice. He didn’t have time for her nonsense today.

Helena ran quickly towards him with her skirts clutched in her fists. “Quick, Barry! You won’t believe who has returned!”

Barry looked up from the small mountain of straw he was piling in front of the horses.

“What is it, Helena?” he couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Lord Oliver, I mean, his Lordship is home!” Helena exclaimed excitedly.

Barry froze. Lord Oliver was several years older than him but they used to play together as children what with Barry being the only other boy at the manor. They’d become friends and their friendship had evolved into mutual respect as they grew older.

Barry hurried to take off his work apron and thrust it into his sister’s hands before he ran towards the terrace where Lord Oliver surely was.

He arrived just in time to see Raisa fuss over Oliver before he embraced her and spun her in his arms. Barry looked on fondly as Raisa had raised them both.

“You become more beautiful as the years go by, Raisa,” Oliver smiled widely at her.

“I thought I taught you not to lie, Master Oliver.” Raisa swatted her hand at his compliment, but she was clearly touched by his words.

“Oh Raisa, the world has taught me to be bad.” Oliver teased her and swiftly evaded her swatting hand.

“Lord Oliver!” Barry exclaimed coming forward.

“Barry, old friend!” Oliver clapped him heartily on the back. “It’s been too long. How have you been?”

Barry nodded humbly. “I am in good health, my lord, all is well. And yourself?”

Oliver opted to only smile brightly at him.

He turned to Raisa again “What of my mother?”

“She is upstairs, m’lord - “

Oliver was halfway up the steps to the main entrance before she could finish her sentence. Then he paused suddenly and turned around to face Barry, Raisa and the rest of the staff who had gathered to greet Oliver upon his return.

“I am very pleased to find you all in good health,” he told them quickly and then took off again.

\----------

Oliver took the steps two at a time butas soon as he reached the third story he stopped. His impatience was still burning holes in the soles of his feet, but he knew his mother would disapprove of him running around the house. Plus, the sense of nostalgia which washed over him overpowered his impatience. He strode slowly through the familiar hallways, taking in the same old paintings and furnishings.

He headed straight for the library - the room his mother loved most in the whole estate. Oliver could see the silhouette of a woman through the coloured glass doors. He smiled and walked more quickly.

“Mother,” he exclaimed all but bursting into the room.

The woman in the library was not his mother. The lady in question seemed to be several years younger than him and she shot up on her feet as soon as she saw him. That’s when he got a good look at her and all thoughts of his mother were suddenly forgotten.

She was short, the top of her head reaching no higher than his shoulder, and her blond hair fell in ringlets over her shoulder. She had only pulled it back enough so it wouldn’t get in her face - a fact that Oliver appreciated greatly. She was wearing a red gown which complimented both her figure and complexion. But what pulled Oliver in was her eyes. Big, blue and hidden beneath a pair of spectacles.

She hadn’t said one word to him but he was mesmerised already, He approached her in a daze and inclined his head in greeting which seemed to bring her out of her stupor and she curtsied. Oliver could see she was still alarmed.

“Forgive me, madam, I was told that…” he watched her take a step back and paused in his approach to her. “I am terribly sorry for frightening you,” he added gently.

She put her book on the small side table and approached him cautiously.

“You did not frighten me, my lord,” she assured him, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I am Oliver Queen, Earl of Starling -”

“I know who you are, my lord” she hurried to say and he had to suppress a smile at her giddiness.

“At your service, Miss,” Oliver bowed.

She curtsied once again “It is an honour to meet you, my lord..”

There was a beat of silence between them and Oliver found himself giving voice to his thoughts:

“Have we met before?”

“In a manner of speaking… yes,” She smiled at him shyly. “I have seen your portrait, my lord, in your mother’s chambers. She has been waiting for you. Follow me,”

Oliver chuckled at her answer and waited for her to pass before he headed after her.

They reached for the door at the same time and their fingers touched over the handle for the briefest of moments. The yong woman pulled her hand back sharply, Oliver could tell she was embarrassed at the accident.

She took a step back and let him open the door for her. As soon as he did she walked past him awkwardly, attempting to put as much distance between them as the small space allowed. He would have laughed if he were sure it wouldn’t offend her.

He let her lead him to his mother’s quarters even though he had perfect recollection of where they were. His mother had always been a creature of habit and he doubted she had relocated after the death of his father.

They found Lady Moira in her bed, praying. He waited for the young lady to announce herself before he stepped into the better lit part of the room and called out to his mother.

He saw Lady Moira freeze before the small cross fell onto the duvet and she trembled.

“Mother,” he said in an emotional tone. She was older than he remembered. More frail. He was almost afraid to hug her lest he hurt her.

“Oliver,” Moira whispered in disbelief.

“Oliver!” she exclaimed happily and Oliver could see the glistening tears in her eyes.

He crossed the distance between them and knelt at the side of her bed.

“I’m home, mother,” he told her, uncaring of how emotional he was.

“My beautiful boy! Oh my beautiful boy!” Moira cried and reached out for him only to have Oliver meet her halfway.

He sank into his mother’s arms and felt like all the events of the past several days, all his worries, melted away.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know how I'm doing and if you like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Tommy reunite and some more sparks fly in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay life has been quite hectic and I find myself with less and less time to write. That being said, I hope this chapter will be worth your wait. I will explain my situation and possible schedule in the note after the end of the chapter. I won't keep you from the story any longer. The chapter is unbeta'ed so any mistakes are my own.

* * *

**Starling Estate**

Morning dawned brightly on Starling Estate and somehow the day seemed brighter than yesterday. That was what Lady Moira claimed anyway. She had woken from the best night’s sleep she’s had in longer than she cared to remember and for the first time did not dread the coming day. Her son was home at last. That was all that mattered to her. 

She opted to take her breakfast on the balcony that morning. The sun too tempting to resist and the morning too beautiful to ignore any longer. Raisa served Lady Moira her usual breakfast, but before she left, Moira asked her to let Felicity sleep in today as her services won’t be needed.

Her balcony had a wonderful view to the gardens and Moira wished she had the strength to walk around as she once used to. Instead, she settled on a deep sigh and a nice view. She did not feel she had room to complain. After all, she was safe in her home, in relatively good health for her age, her children and grandchild were safe and healthy and she was surrounded by good and loyal people. Her situation could be much worse indeed.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie and she called out for whoever was knocking to enter. She watched Oliver walk in with a spring in his step. Her smile grew brighter at the sight of him. 

She leaned into his embrace when he kissed her good morning. 

“You are awake early,” Lady Moira noted with a smile, craning her neck up to look at her son. 

It was a curious thing to see him out and about at this time of day. While Moira and her late husband were early risers, their son was not. 

“The army did teach me a few things, mother.” Oliver chuckled in response. 

“So it would seem,” Moira smirked. “What do you have planned for the morning?” she asked after a small pause.

“Nothing in particular. I do plan on visiting Thomas later today, but my morning is free.”

Today was indeed a good day for her.

“Then you would not mind taking your old, sick, mother for a stroll in the gardens, would you?” 

Once Oliver agreed to her request, Moira grimaced. “Would you ring the service bell? Have the maid tell Bartholomew to fetch my  [ bath chair ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bath_chair) ,”

Lady Moira hated the blasted thing. It made her feel even older and sicker than she was. Yet she swallowed her pride and decided to use it. Now that her family was finally back together again, she did not want to miss one moment with them until she absolutely had to.

She let Oliver carry her down to the entry of the gardens where Bartholomew was already waiting for them with the blasted chair behind him.

During their second round of the gardens Lady Moira started filling her son in everything that he had missed during the time he was away.

* * *

 

Oliver pushed the bath chair slowly, at this point only half listening to his mother’s words. He knew she was excited to have him home, but he did not have the heart to tell her that he had only come home to care for her. That he had simply taken leave from the army and was expected to be back at some point. He was certain it would break her heart and he was absolutely loathe to do it. 

Life as a Lord and land-owner held no appeal to him. He had always found it to be boring and thus had never quite learned what his departed father tried to teach him while he’d been alive. Estate management, diplomacy, accounting… they had all flown past his young self who preferred getting drunk in the local inns with his friend Lord Thomas.

He was different now. The army had taught him discipline that his younger self had lacked. The rough living conditions there had taught him to be appreciative of his social status and the luxuries his rank afforded.

“His Majesty’s new reforms have upset some of the nobles quite a bit,” Moira noted, leaning back in her chair with a huff. 

“Since when does nobility go against the King?” Oliver asked

“Since His Majesty decided that having a modern state is more important than the aristocracy and has started to take away some of their old priviliges.” Moira explained “What’s more your brother-in-law, Sebastian, keeps taking gold out of our treasury but once that’s not enough he would give land to creditors and would evict our villagers. If he keeps going Starling Estate will be in ruins sooner rather than later.” Moira spat, she held no love for her daughter’s husband and she was at an age where she was at ease to show it.

Oliver hesitated before replying to his mother. She was quite upset already and he loathed to cause her even more distress.

“Mother, I do understand the situation, but I feel that I need to remind you that I am only visiting. I have been granted leave from the army, I cannot stay indefinitely.”

“We shall have a ball to celebrate your return home.” Moira stated, pretending she didn’t hear him at all. “We will invite absolutely everyone so that they would be assured that Starling’s rightful heir has returned and that the Queen family will prevail.” 

Oliver sighed quietly. He really should have known better than to argue with his mother. Once she put her mind to something there was no swaying her. Knowing that trying to talk her out of it would yield no results whatsoever, he decided to the best thing to do would be to change the subject before his mother got truly upset.

“Who is the lady that showed me to your room yesterday? She was very kind and attentive with me.” 

“She is my care-giver and companion and I love her dearly. She has been with me for several years now and while I mean absolutely no offence to your sister, I love her like she was my own child.”

“Does she have a name?” Oliver prodded with a smile.

“Her name is Felicity. Felicity of Starling. She’s a darling of a girl and I would loathe the thought of anything bad happening to her.” Moira said, her voice hardening towards the end as she twisted her neck to look up at her son.

She could read him like an open book and she did not like his sudden interest in Felicity. She wouldn’t want any man with her son’s promiscuous reputation anywhere near Felicity.

As if sensing his mother’s disapproval Oliver leaned forward to press a kiss against her cheek. He knew from experience: nothing could mellow his mother out like some genuine affection on his part.

“Queen! You bloody bastard!” A loud voice exclaimed several feet behind them and Oliver immediately turned around to its source.

He couldn’t help but smile widely at the approaching figure. He knew that voice. He knew that man and gods, how he had missed him!

“You thought you could come home without me finding out?” 

“Thomas Merlin!” Oliver exclaimed happily and reached for his oldest and closest friend. The two embraced heartily. Like the brothers that they were.

Once they parted, the Earl moved to greet Lady Moira. 

“Go on, spend some time with your friend, “ Moira told Oliver, sensing the two men’s impatience to catch up. “Just find Bartholomew before you leave and have him take me back inside. I think I’ve had enough fresh air for the day.” 

At this, both men started protesting and insisting that they will take her inside and see that she is comfortable before they set off. They were no children after all, and their mothers had taught them well.

* * *

 

Oliver tossed the rapier in his hand - weighing it, as Thomas waved his around.

They got into position and Oliver smirked. His friend was in for a surprise - Oliver was a lot better with a sword than Thomas remembered.

“So,” Oliver said, “I take it you are one of the displeased nobles?” 

Thomas grinned and got into position. 

“I would think the answer is obvious, Queen.” Thomas said as their rapiers brushed against one another. “For centuries, this land has belonged to our ancestors. We should not have to give up something that is our birthright.” he added,

“The King wouldn’t turn against his nobles. I don’t believe it.” Oliver said, pulling back some. 

The two men started circling each other with their weapons at the ready. They were observing and evaluating their opponent despite the smiles on their faces, waiting to see who would strike first.

“Then I would advise taking a stroll along your lands. See the state they’re in.” Thomas stated and stopped his circling movements. 

“His Majesty either has an incompetent advisor or…” Thomas trailed off “ if he keeps alienating us...” he said after a small pause, but once again did not finish his sentence.

The wary look on his face told Oliver that Thomas was afraid he’d said too much.

“What then?” Oliver prompted him anyway, despite knowing his friend would not elaborate.

Thomas dropped his rapier suddenly, the turn in their conversation had no doubt killed his mood to spar.

“I am bored. Shall we have some fun?”

With that Thomas lunged forward and attacked. Oliver was taken aback by the sudden action but despite his surprise he managed to duck and dodge the hit. He retorted with a lunge of his own that his friend managed to block rather quickly.

Their rapiers clashed once again and they continued going back and forth for a while. Oliver may have learned some new tricks in his time away, but it appeared that Thomas did too. That realization made Oliver both anxious and relieved. Anxious about the circumstances that would require his friend to reach that level of expertise and relief that if there was indeed anything to worry about then Thomas was more than able to defend himself.

Thomas spun behind Oliver and in a move he had perfected long ago, he managed to upset Oliver’s balance, jump in front of him and wave the rapier out of his friend’s hand with his own. Once the discarded weapon touched the ground Thomas pressed his own rapier against his friend’s jugular.

“You seem to have forgotten my signature move, old friend,” Thomas teased Oliver, lowering his rapier from Oliver’s neck.

Oliver said nothing, he thought it would be best not to irritate Thomas more than he already has. He’d only gotten his brother back. He would hate to cause a rift between them.

“Honestly, Oliver, you should stay in Starling. If the nobility has to continue to endure one slight after another then soon we will be doing more fighting here, than what you and the soldiers do at the front.” 

Seeing that they weren’t going to get anymore sparring done, Oliver dropped his weapon as well and led his friend over to the small fountain in the gardens where they could wash up and have a quick drink.

“What did you mean by ‘we will be doing more fighting here’?” Oliver asked abruptly once they had quelled their thirst.

“I see I have managed to attract your attention,” Thomas grinned and turned around to walk away.

“I simply wish to understand the situation,” Oliver explained, hurrying after him.

“I cannot explain anything at this time.” Thomas’ voice turned somber as they walked back towards the manor.

That only seemed to vex Oliver more. “We grew up together. Why are you being so mysterious and evasive all of a sudden?” he inquired.

Thomas sighed, he had forgotten how bloody stubborn Queen could be,

“Let’s just say that there will be a surprise waiting for His Majesty when he returns from his trip to the Mainland.” Thomas said with a smirk, knowing that his answer would only frustrate Oliver more.

“I was under the impression that His Majesty was in London.” Oliver said, trying his best to keep a neutral expression that would not betray how surprised and bewildered he was by the news.

“Oh no, he went to visit his French cousins.” Thomas explained.  

“When is he due back?” Oliver asked flatly. This was definitely going to be a major inconvenience for his mission.

“The longer he is away, the better for us.” Thomas shrugged. 

They had reached the main lawn now and Thomas signed for his coachman to bring his carriage up front. 

“The King treats us like we are his servants and we have grown sick of it.” Thomas stated plainly,

Oliver let out a huff at that. For, one his friend’s words were bordering on treason and for another: 

“Tommy, I am a noble but I am also a soldier of the King.” he protested. 

Tommy sighed, “Then I pity you, old friend, because there will come a time sooner rather than later when you will have to pick a side.” 

Seeing that his carriage was now waiting for him, Thomas patted Oliver’s shoulder quickly as means of farewell and departed without so much as a smile.

So much for ending their time on a high note…

* * *

 

In the late afternoon, Oliver sagged into the armchair at the library desk with the set of documents in his hands. He was a loyal subject and an honourable soldier of King George III, but something about Thomas’ behaviour and everything that had happened to him in the days leading up to his return home was bothering him. A lot. 

He took the papers out of their satchel. Some were sealed with wax and he dared not open them for fear that it would turn them void in the eyes of the King and the court. However there was one folded piece of paper that was not sealed

Oliver unfolded it and read carefully. It was a will. More of a last confession, to be precise. The Duke of Lancaster had written this letter to repent for his sins before he died. He had written these documents as proof of his activities and had included a list of everyone who had conspired with him against the Crown.

“...A conspiracy against the King and a plan to assassinate him.” Oliver gasped as he read the Duke’s words. 

“Bloody hell!” what had he gotten himself into?! 

Before he could so much as start to think about what he should do next, the door to the library opened and Oliver hurried to fold back the letter and put everything out of sight before he was seen.

He grabbed the closest thing to him - a book of Greek tragedies - and shoved the stack of letters between the pages.

He closed the book shut just as his new companion came into his sight. 

His sour mood at the sudden interruption evaporated immediately.

The lovely lady was back.

Felicity - his mother had said.

She stopped in her tracks upon seeing him and curtsied. 

“Forgive me, my lord, I fear that I lack the habit of knocking.” she said, giving him a small sheepish smile.

“Then it is my understanding that we share the same flaws.” Oliver grinned at her and subtly moved his hand on top of the book that contained the documents so that Felicity wouldn’t see them.

Felicity was obviously nervous.

“The library is usually empty.” she said, fiddling with the edges of the brown shawl she used to cover her front. “I beg your pardon, my lord.” she added and turned on her heel to exit the library.

It took him a moment, but Oliver called her back just as she was about to exit. He was so curious about her and he hadn’t had an opportunity to see her all day, between his mother and Thomas.

Oliver rose from his chair as soon as she retraced her steps to where she was before. He took the book on the desk and swiftly placed it on the shelf behind him. It was one containing volumes about mechanics and biology. He doubted very much they would interest his lady mother or her lovely companion.

“I would like to speak to you.” Oliver said, approaching Felicity. “My dear mother loves you very much, Madam” he added.

“As I love her,” Felicity assured him kindly “I owe a lot to the Countess.” 

Oliver leaned against the desk, never breaking eye-contact with her.

“Is that why you wrote to me?” he inquired.

“Please, my lord!” Felicity whispered intensely. “I have not told a soul about this letter.” her face turned pale and there was clear alarm in her voice,

“Rest assured, neither have I,” Oliver matched the tone of her voice. Only slightly teasing her since they were all alone in the library.

She seemed to catch on to that if the small smile that graced her features was any indication.

Oliver felt satisfied with himself.

“That being said,” Oliver said, pushing himself off the desk to come and stand behind Felicity. “I fail to understand why you would feel ashamed by an action that only speaks of your kindness.” Were he to lean a little bit further towards her he would be whispering the words right into her ear.

“I would have never returned home if it were not for your letter.” Oliver  told her, having put some more distance between them again. He quickly walked back to his initial position at the desk.

“You are aware that your lady Mother is a very proud woman,” Felicity sighed. If his display had flustered her she did not show it.

“Plus, your sister, Lady Lyla and her husband…” Felicity trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence without speaking out of turn.

“In other words, the members of my family have difficult characters.” Oliver finished the sentence for her, deciding to spare her the embarrassment.

Felicity smiled in relief, glad that he were the one to say it and not her. She decided not to comment. She had never looked more lovely to Oliver - standing there, palms entwined at her front, and head ducked into her bosom - all bashful and enchanting.

“My lord,” Helena’s voice interrupted his reverie and barely had enough presence of mind to be grateful for it. 

She was carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. 

Oliver ushered her in and instructed her to put it on a nearby table. Just before she left he seemed to remember himself and asked her to bring him another cup for Felicity.

Helena froze at that.

“A cup for me, my lord?” Felicity asked, clearly surprised. 

“Of course. Unless you do not like tea and would prefer something else?” Oliver responded in a bewildered tone. He did not understand why she was so shocked by his request.

“T-Tea is f-fine, thank you.” Felicity stuttered.

“Helena, you heard the lady. Go on.” he urged the servant girl.

Helena curtsied in response to his request and hurried out of the library, but not before sending Felicity a quick hateful glance.

Once she was gone, Oliver reached inside his jacket and handed Felicity a folded sheet of paper.

“There, I return your note to you. That way you do not have to worry about someone discovering your… betrayal.” he grinned teasingly.

But this time Felicity did not respond to his humour.

“Since she got her first crisis, not a day would go by without your mother mentioning your name.” Felicity said “I simply felt that you deserved to know.” 

Oliver walked past her and towards the big french window.

“Is it truly as bad as you described in your letter?” he asked, looking outside towards the gardens. 

“I am afraid so, my lord.” Felicity admitted somberly, “The physician says it’s her heart. Her episodes have been getting more and more frequent… But now that you have returned home,” Felicity added after a moment’s pause, her voice hopeful.

“I am afraid I am not here to stay,” Oliver said, turning away from the window to face her again.

“I beg your pardon?” Felicity exclaimed angrily, losing her composure some and almost knocking over the tea pot.

“I see that you, too, possess a difficult character.” Oliver said, approaching her.

When she looked up from the tea pot she realized that he was closer than she realized. Too close. 

Should anyone see them like this…

She stepped back in an attempt to put some distance between them.

“I worry about your mother.” she told Oliver.

“So do I,” Oliver replied. “The thing is, I dislike people deciding on my future without bothering to inform me on it.” he said with just enough bite in his tone to make her recoil.

Felicity hesitated before she spoke. 

“I did not mean to offend you, my lord.” she said quietly. “Your mother has waited for so long to have you back and now you will leave her again after such a short stay. It would devastate her.” she added, her voice rising again to its normal pitch.

“I am only staying for a month.” Oliver clarified.”I am a soldier, Madam,” he added, not tearing his eyes from Felicity who had looked down.

Neither of them paid attention to Helena who had returned to the room with the additional cup and started pouring the tea,

“I have duties and people who rely on me in my corner of the world.” Oliver explained to Felicity. “Unless…” he added.

The way her head sprang back up and how her eyes widened with sudden interest made him feel good.

“Unless…  _ Something  _ were to happen that would  _ make me _ stay.” Oliver finished his thought. 

“Then let us hope that  _ something  _ does happen.” Felicity replied without missing a beat.

“Indeed,” Oliver smiled at her. 

Felicity wasn’t so sure that they were talking about their home anymore.

* * *

 

Felicity’s mind was reeling as she brushed her horse’s mane absent-mindedly. There were the usual worries about her mother and sister, Lady Moira, the inevitable return of Lady Lyla and her horrid husband. But now there was also Oliver, er, His Lordship. Their afternoon conversation was at the forefront of her mind.

The way he spoke to her, as if she were his equal. His kindness and attentiveness to her in offering her tea. His obvious concern and genuine affection for his sick mother… And then the stubborn, pig-headed part of him that insisted on going away even though it was best for everyone involved that he stay.

She counted herself in “everyone”.

Then, of course, there was the matter of his piercing blue eyes that mesmerized her when he’d stood so close. His cheeky, teasing smile that she couldn’t resist returning. 

Thinking of him solely as her master was proving to be more and more difficult the more time they spent together.

“Felicity, did you hear me at all?” Barry’s loud exclamation pulled her out of her fantasy world.

She shook her head quickly as if to rid herself of her thoughts. “Yes, yes, you were talking about the horse.” she said quickly.

One look at Barry told her that he was not impressed by her response.

“I said that I could beat you with His Lordship’s horse and you would not stand a chance at winning” Barry repeated himself. 

“What about His Lordship?” Felicity asked, realising a moment too late that she had spoken aloud and had asked the wrong question. “I mean… what about His Lordship’s horse?” 

The self satisfied smirk on his face told Felicity that he was only going to tease her further. That frustrated her and she felt like she had no patience for Barry’s games right now.

“Pardon me,” she dropped the brush onto the nearby bench and hurried to get as far away from him as she could.

Today was definitely not a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for reading and sticking with me. I appreciate it. I'd appreciate it even more if you could tell me your thoughts and opinions.
> 
> \------  
> Currently, I have started my second semester and I have 3 assignments all due in the same week in the middle of March. All of them are bloody hefty. To top it all I'm also working 2 jobs to help with money matters, one of which is as a copywriter for a company that has a website and a magazine that ships internationally. Remember those Uni due dates? Add two more in the same week - my 2 features for the magazine. 
> 
> Plus my current problems with vision and overall health... I am really looking forward to the end of March let me tell you.
> 
> All of this is why I can't give you a regular posting schedule at the moment. Maybe once things calm down some I'll be able to do it. So sorry.  
> Thank you for your understanding.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bathing incident, family reunions and so many innuendos.

* * *

 

**Starling Grounds:**

Despite voicing his disinterest in being a landowner to his mother the previous day, Oliver decided to take Thomas’ advice and have a look around his lands. He didn’t plan on staying, but he felt a duty towards these people nevertheless. If he could make a difference for them for the time he was home, then he felt obligated to try.

The problem was Oliver knew next to nothing about the duties and responsibilities of a landlord. Being away for so long alienated him from his people. He didn’t know their struggles or what their everyday life looked like. He didn’t know their families, or their names. For this exact reason, he’d decided to seek out the help of someone who was familiar with the region and its people, someone who knew the ins and outs of Starling and whom Oliver could trust to be honest with him. He could think of no better man than Barry Allen.

He’d gone to the stables to relieve him from his daily duties and to ask him to saddle his horse along with another one that Barry preferred riding on. While Barry was seeing to that Oliver filled him in on his intentions and requested his help in the matter.

They visited several families in the area around the estate. Oliver met them and did his best to remember their names. It got somewhat confusing after a while, but he tried to show them as much respect as he could - something he would not have done in his youth when he believed that being of noble birth granted him some god-given superiority to these ordinary people. Now, however, he knew that the only reason his family continued to be prosperous is because their tennants and villagers contributed to it - as such his family owed them good care. Good care that they were currently lacking, from the looks of their shanty houses, poor clothing, and poorly managed fields.

It was something Oliver was planning to talk about with his brother-in-law as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Barry and Oliver decided to return to Starling for lunch. The Benson family, whom they had been visiting had offered them to share their lunch, but Oliver didn’t have it in him to take anything of what little food they had. Not when they need not share it with him. He appreciated the family’s generosity and he’d let them know that but he quickly explained that his dear mother was waiting for him and it would not serve him well to keep her waiting.

The excuse seemed to do the trick and soon they were off. Oliver had wanted to leave them some coins for the children, but Barry had stopped him from doing so.

“These people are used to working to earn their income. They’ll see your good gesture as charity, my lord. It would insult them.” Barry explained.

Oliver nodded quietly and settled for steering Hermes in the right direction home.

Barry and Oliver settled into a leisurely riding pace home. Oliver used their time alone to start asking questions that didn’t get answered during their visits.

“The sharecroppers can bear to feed their families with what they produce, whereas the farmers only produce what they want. The result? - potatoes everywhere.” Barry explained. “If I may, my lord, Marquess Blud is a poor manager. He is unfamiliar with this type of work and the necessities of the people. He isn’t from this region and he doesn’t even bother to learn the local dialect. Most of all though,” Barry paused for a moment and glanced at his master who was staring off to his left.

“Are you listening to me, sire?” Barry asked, fearing that perhaps he had overstepped by speaking so bluntly about Oliver’s family.

“Yes,” Oliver replied absent-mindedly.

He was still looking to his right. He’d heard the sound of approaching hooves and he was on alert in case he came across more bandits. His first thought was that perhaps it was more mercenaries coming after him about the List.

His worries soon evaporated, though, and were replaced with intrigue because the rider was soon before them. Riding on the opposite path some distance from them and  sparing no thought to their surroundings.

The rider was no other than Miss Felicity.

“Yes, Barry, you were saying how incompetent my brother-in-law is.” Oliver replied as he was openly staring after Felicity.

Her hair was loose again and it whipped behind her as she rode her horse expertly. She was in complete control of the animal and the fact that she rode astride as well as the speed she was riding at, told Oliver that she had been riding for a while.

Oliver was beyond intrigued about this woman - how she could be as shy and dainty as the finest of ladies, yet speak her mind passionately and fiercely and now she also possessed the riding expertise of a man. In fact, Oliver was sure she rode better than some of his fellow soldiers.

In a rush of rare impulsiveness he told Barry to go back home. He dismissed the latter’s attempts to dissuade him of his intentions to follow after Felicity. With a quick jerk of Hermes’ reigns Oliver turned his horse around and followed after Felicity, completely ignoring Barry’s loud protests of “Master Oliver!”.

He followed her at a distance that ensured he would remain undetected by her. They ended up at a small stream half way to the nearest village. It was a quiet beautiful place with lush green bushes, tall trees and a variety of wildflowers peeking out here and there between the tall grass.

The stream formed a small waterfall and beneath it the water gathered to create a small pond before it trickled away down the current.

By the time Oliver dismounted his horse and approached the stream, Felicity had already stepped out of her clothes and was only wearing a thin chemise.Oliver hid behind a particularly leafy bush and watched her as she stepped into the water and gradually submerged herself in it. He observed her as she smiled serenely as the sun’s rays warmed her face. She swam around the pond slowly - clearly for pleasure as opposed to exercise.

Oliver felt like he was intruding on her privacy but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to look away. She was enchanting. Her slender arms reaching up to swipe her long hair off her face. The slightly darker shade of her hair as it glistened in the sunshine - as if it were made of spun gold.

He didn’t know which of their horses broke the spell he was under with their loud whinny, but the noise definitely alerted the young lady. She was no longer at peace. Instead he watched her scurry off to hide behind a rock in the middle of the small pond, crossing her arms over her torso so that she could keep at least a smidge of modesty. It had little effect, seeing as her short chemise left barely anything to the imagination.

She was a vision, indeed.

“Who’s there?” Oliver heard her call out and he couldn’t help but grin as he ducked further into the bush.

“Barry is that you? How many times do I have to tell you to stop following me when I go riding?” Felicity called out again, more angrily this time.

Oliver was on the verge of giggling at the sight of her small, angry self. She must have thought she sounded intimidating, when in fact it only endeared her to him more.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Felicity yelled again, this time looking at Oliver’s general direction.

Oliver took this as his cue to leave. He didn’t want to risk being discovered even though he found her wrath amusing.

 

* * *

 

 

**Starlng Manor:**

 

Lady Lyla entered her mother’s chambers quietly, calling out to her as she did so. She’d missed her mother when she was in London. She always did.

“Lyla, dearest, you heard the good news?” Moira asked, reaching for her daughter from her armchair.

Lyla nodded happily. She had nearly forgotten what her younger brother looked like. It had been so long since she last saw him. She hurried forward to clutch  her mother’s hand, the smile on her face more sincere and joyful than it had been in a long time.

“We came as soon as Felicity’s letter reached us.” Lyla told her mother. “Where is he?”

“He stepped out with Bartholomew to take a look at our grounds.” Moira explained “They have been gone for a while now, I believe they won’t be long.”

Moira leaned back into her chair and sighed.

“Lyla, darling, I do hope he sees reason and decides to stay home. I pray to God that he does.” Moira said sadly. Having her family around her is all she’s ever wanted.

This sobered Lyla immediately and she reached towards her mother’s shoulders with her free hand.

“Felicity also mentioned in her letter that you’ve had another episode.” Lyla said, rubbing her mother’s shoulders.

“Felicity worries too much about me, as always” Moira scoffed and waved her hand dismissively at her daughter’s concern.

She looked up at Lyla then and smiled at her.

“Dr Diggle insists that I have years of life ahead of me.” Moira said.

Lyla tensed and her posture became rigid. Her grip on her mother’s hand tightened but she couldn’t find it in her to apologize. The concern on her face was replaced with annoyance and a grimace.

“ _Diggle?_ ” she asked flatly, raisong an  eyebrow at her mother. “He paid you a visit?”

“Yes, dearest.” Moira sighed. “John Diggle is the best doctor in our area, It has been too long since his foolish youthful actions, it’s time we forgave him.”

Lyla disagreed, if her face was anything to go by. Moira didn’t need to know her daughter as well as she did to be sure that her girl was seething inside.

“This man dishonored his entire family with his actions.” Lyla insisted coldly.

“But mostly, he just broke _your_ heart.” Moira added astutely and squeezed her daughter’s hand in sympathy. “Am I mistaken?” she asked after Lyla provided her with no answer.

Lyla looked up from the pattern of the chair she’s been staring at and swallowed visibly before answering.

“I am afraid you have me at a loss, mother. I remind you that I am a happily married woman.” Lyla said in a clipped tone that told Moira their discussion was over.

“Of course, dearest.” Moira sighed. “Is Emily with you?”

The excitement was back in Lyla’s eyes at the mention of her daughter. She nodded enthusiastically and hurried to usher Emily into the room.

Moira greeted her granddaughter heartily. The girl reminded her so much of Lyla. Moira just hoped, that for the sake of the girl, she’d have a happier life than her mother did.

“Are you well, my darling girl?” Moira asked the girl, caressing her cheek with her hand.

“Yes, grandmama.” Emily nodded. “I’m very excited to meet Uncle.”

* * *

 

**Meanwhile:**

Oliver dismounted his horse with a smile only to run into Barry.

“Did you catch up to your prey, my lord?” Barry asked him cheekily.

Oliver grinned at him and nodded

“That I have, only I didn’t catch it. I came to the conclusion that some birds are more beautiful and enjoyable when they are not being hunted.” Oliver said, pointing a finger at Barry.

“It has come to my understanding that you’re quite the hunter yourself.” he added.

Barry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

Oliver snorted. “Sure you don’t. I can definitely see the appeal of Miss Felicity, Barry, but be sure not to reach beyond your limits.” his voice turned slightly intimidating and all amusement drained off his face as he spoke.

Barry shifted on his feet and looked down, thoroughly confused now.

“Your sister arrived shortly before you, my lord.” Barry said, deciding that a change of subject was best.

Oliver smiled brightly at the news, much to Barry’s relief. He turned on his heel and headed towards the manor.

“Don’t you forget what I told you.” Oliver called out over his shoulder as he walked away.

On his way out of the servant quarters - a shortcut between the main hall and the stables - Oliver encountered a young girl who was paying by herself silently with a rope made of ribbons. She was wearing a bright blue dress that reminded Oliver of a cloudless sky and her hair was piled elegantly at the top of her head. She looked no older than ten, perhaps twelve, and by her appearance she didn’t seem to be a servant girl.

.”Who would you be?” Oliver asked loudly, causing the girl to freeze for a moment and forget all about her game.

He walked around her until he was facing the girl. The resemblance to her sister was absolutely uncanny.

“Emily?” Oliver asked in disbelief, the last he’d seen her she was still a baby.

He was rewarded with a brilliant, toothy smile and a small curtsy from his niece.

“My God,” Oliver sighed, caressing her cheek gently. “You have grown into a beautiful little lady, haven’t you? Had I come home any later, I would be at a serious risk of falling in love with you.” Oliver chuckled as he lifted Emily up into his arms and spun her around.

Emily’s response was to laugh at his antics and clutch at his neck.

“Thank you, my lord.” she said shyly.

Oliver stopped twirling her at that.

“My lord?” he asked affronted, “There’s no ‘my lords, around here, my sweet girl, I’m your uncle.”

“Oliver!”

Neither of them had noticed Lyla approaching from behind. Oliver put his niece down and turned around to look at his sister. She was shaking with what he hoped was excitement. The blue gown she was wearing accentuated her beauty. She was as beautiful and elegant as he remembered her.

“Lyla,” Oliver whispered and surged forward to embrace her.

“I have missed you so,” Lyla whispered into his shoulder as they hugged.

Oliver returned the sentiment exactly. They had exchanged letters when they could, but he had missed his older sister smiling at him. He’d missed her gentleness and affection.

He pulled back to really look at her, his hands still clutching hers, unable to let go.

“You seem a bit thin, Lyla,” he said, concern colouring his voice. He pressed a hand to her chin, “Are you well?”

“A little bit perhaps,” Lyla acknowledged his fretting with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I am perfectly fine now that you are home, brother.” she grinned at him.

“Come, we should catch up inside,” Oliver suggested, gesturing for his sister to take his right arms and holding out his left hand for Emily to take.

* * *

 

Barry was in the middle of caring for Hermes when he heard the deafening yell of his name.

He barely had any time to get out of the stables before a furious Felicity dismounted her horse in front of him. It had been a while since he’d seen her this angry. An angry Felicity never meant anything good for whoever she directed her wrath at.

He had a clue as to what she was furious about, though, so he approached her with a grin. Firmly believing that he was safe.

He did not expect the sharp, swift slap across his cheek or the way she was glaring at him.

“I swear on my honour, the next time this happens I’ll tell everything to her Ladyship and I’ll see to it that you’re kicked out of here!” Felicity spat.

Barry grabbed her arm as she turned around to leave.

“I’ve done nothing!” he protested.

“Like hell you have!” Felicity yelled, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. “Let me go or I’ll slap you again.”

“If you explain what I’ve done to deserve it, then by all means go ahead!” Barry said. “Don’t tell me you are disappointed that Lord Oliver didn’t join you for a bath.”

Felicity froze. Her ire suddenly forgotten. There was absolutely no way she could have heard him correctly. A blush creeped up her cheeks as the situation dawned on her. She was behaving like a fool in front of Barry and her master had seen her naked. Oh, no,

“That… That wasn’t you?” Felicity stuttered in embarrassment.

“No, miss, I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure.” Barry replied cheekily.

“So it was him…” Felicity mumbled, “Oliver,”

“Yes, Felicity, _Lord_ Oliver,” Barry chastised her,

Felicity blinked at him mutely and took off towards the house running. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

* * *

 

She was on her way to the library when she ran into Lady Lyla.

“There you are!” Lyla called out and Felicity let out the smallest of sighs at not being able to escape her.

“My Lady,” Felicity greeted her with a smile and a curtsy.

“Are you coming to check if your orders have been fulfilled?” Lyla asked her sardonically.

“I beg your pardon, my lady?” Felicity asked back, not quite sure what the marchioness was referring to.

“My dear Felicity, I can be kind and good-natured, but the next time you attempt to involve yourself in affairs that do not concern you, I’ll see to it that you’re let go.” Lyla snapped at her.

Felicity’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she spotted Helena and Carrie giggling from the corner of her eye. They were in Lord Oliver’s chambers, holding linens in their hands.

Felicity suddenly understood why Lady Lyla was upset with her. Earlier today, Felicity had advised them on which bedsheets to use and what to do with some half-used candles. In her defense, they had asked for her opinion. They didn’t tell her the items were intended for the Lord’s room.

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Felicity said quietly, “You weren’t here - “

“So you thought that entitled you to make decisions that are above your station.” Lyla cut her off. “Like inviting doctors into my home.” she added coldly after a moment’s pause.

Felicity stood straight at that. She could stand there and allow Lyla to berate her, but she would not be yelled at for trying to save Lady Moira’s life.

“My lady, your mother had an episode - “ Felicity stated explaining.

“My mother has been having episodes for weeks!” Lyla countered angrily. “That man has no business setting foot in _my home,_ you are well aware of that, are you not?”

“Dr Diggle is an excellent physician.” Felicity countered.

That only seemed to anger Lyla more.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me, Felicity!” she exclaimed. “Being my mother’s favourite does not grant you the right to forget your status at Starling Manor.”

Lyla leaned in close to Felicity “You will do well to remember not to involve yourself in the matters of running my home, Felicity. Not only it is not your place, but it is also out of your competence.” she whispered the words with false sweetness into Felicity’s ear.

With that Lady Lyla  stood straight and walked away, satisfied that she’d said her piece.  Felicity on the other hand, slumped her shoulders and exhaled deeply. She definitely needed to go back to her room and compose herself before she met Lady Moira for their afternoon reading.

* * *

 

Oliver circled his desk in the library with the guest list for his ball, with a smirk that conveyed in equal parts his amazement at his mother quick work as well as his frustration with her stubbornness. He had made it clear that he did not want a fuss about his return home, yet his mother wouldn’t hear anything of it.

“Marquis Quentin Lance,” Oliver read out loud “what sort of man is he?” he asked his mother.

Lady Moira was sitting straight in her armchair, looking every bit as regal as her predecessors in the portraits to her left.

“I was under the impression that his wife’s name was Dinah. Here it says Laurel.” Oliver said, looking at his mother for clarification.

“Lady Dinah Lance died five years ago, Oliver. The women mentioned on the list are the Marques’ daughters: Sara and Laurel.” Moira explained. “They’ve grown into quite the elegant young women.”

Oliver rolled his eyes ever so slightly at his mother’s very obvious attempt to steer him towards a courtship. He was not interested in these ladies, as wonderful as they may have been. He decided to cut off her efforts then and there.

“I have been gone for a while.” he said, hoping his mother would appease him.

“Indeed you have.” Moira said briskly. “We will make up for your absence, my son. As a start we shall throw this ball to let the world know that Lord Oliver Queen is home, where he belongs.”

Oliver sighed and walked over to the small plush sofa next to his mother.

“Never mind that Lord Oliver Queen hates social gatherings of any sort.” he said, plopping down leisurely on the seat. “Mother, these things bore me to death.”

“Nonsense,” Moira huffed dismissively.

With a quick smile at his mother, Oliver turned his attention back to the damned guest list.

“ _Mother_ ,” he said in a clipped tone “it says here _Isabel Rochev_.” his voice trembled with just the tiniest bit of shock as he handed her the list.

Lady took the list in her trembling hand and looked through her spectacles at the list of people she’d composed this morning.

“Yes, Oliver,” Moira nodded. “It says Marchioness Isabel Rochev - Palmer.”

Oliver sat up straight upon hearing this. “I remind you that this woman is - “

“This woman,” Moira cut off her son flatly “is the wife of Marquis Palmer who is also the Royal Secretary and one of the most respected and well-known men in the monarchy. He was kind enough to agree to visit Starling manor in your honour.”

Oliver grimaced visibly as his mother handed him the piece of paper back. He was tense, angry and he wanted to rip the wretched thing to pieces.

“Not if Isabel is with him,” Oliver stated flatly, leaping up from his seat.

“She is _his wife_ , Oliver!” Moira said in frustration. “Besides, it has been over a decade - “

“Exactly!” Oliver said pointedly “You know very well that the only reason I have been gone for so long is because of this wretched - “

“Oliver!” Moira exclaimed in protest.

His mother’s sudden outburst seemed to give him pause.

“I had hoped you would have forgotten all about it.” Moira said more quietly.

Oliver shook his head. “Please, do not treat me as a child, mother.”

He started pacing around the room, feeling very much like a caged animal all of a sudden.

“We both know she only married Marquis Palmer because he is the Royal Secretary whereas I am just a lowly Earl.”

“A title our family bears with honour and pride!” she bristled with a frown.

Oliver bowed his head somberly at that. “Forgive me, mother, I meant no offence. I simply have absolutely no wish to see her again. “

He walked back towards his desk and threw the list on it.

Before his mother could berate him again, the door to the library opened and in walked no other than Miss Felicity.

It was utterly ridiculous to Oliver how his mood brightened when he saw her. His conversation with his mother had put him in the foulest of moods, yet this lady walks in and manages to disperse the gloom with just one smile (that wasn’t even directed at him, mind.)

“Felicity, come in, dearest,” Moira greeted her warmly. “My son and I were just discussing the guestlist for our upcoming ball, but you’re just in time.”

Felicity curtsied at her mistress, “I can come back later for our reading, my lady,” she offered.

To Felicity’s surprise it was Lord Oliver who asked her to stay and read to the both of them. He turned around to face her and looked at her straight in the eye. Felicity couldn’t refuse.

She headed for the shelf where she kept the book they were currently reading.

Oliver was watching her like a hawk, especially since she was getting dangerously close to the shelf he had hidden the documents in.

“What are you reading my mother?” he’d asked her, in hopes to disguise his nervousness.

To his relief she reached for the shelf above the one he’d had his eye on and pulled out a small book with an unremarkable beige cover.

“We are reading one of Racine’s tragedies, my lord,” Felicity answered him.

“Is it a love story?” Oliver inquired, following in Felicity’s footsteps as she headed towards the sofa he had sat in moments before.

“I would say it’s a story about fate,” Felicity said.

Oliver smiled and went to stand behind his mother, so that he could look at Felicity’s face. He leaned his elbows on the top of his mother’s armchair.

“But aren’t love and fate one and the same, Miss?” he asked her with a smile and genuine intrigue in his eyes. “You cannot have one without the other.”

Felicity was staring at him silently, not noticing the way Lady Moira reacted to her son’s words and how she twisted her neck in her attempts to see him.

Felicity was trying to figure out the game he was playing at, because he seemed to be having too much fun for someone who was discussing a tragedy.

“For example,” Oliver continued, still with a smile on his face and still not tearing his eyes off of Felicity. “If I were to go for a walk in the woods and stop at the nearest stream where I come across this lovely, delicate woman and see her step into the water with the elegance of an angel, is that not fate?”

His expression was so self-satisfied, Felicity wished she could hurl the book at his face. She couldn’t ever do that however, regardless of Lady Moira’s presence. So she settled for another approach.

“That would be tactless, my lord.” Felicity told him tensely, looking anywhere in the room but at him.

“Love is tactless. It doesn’t ask for permission, it just shows up unannounced and is completely enchanting,” Oliver countered with a cheeky grin. “Irresistible… and - naked.” he added.

Moira turned around in her seat at that and gave her son an incredulous look. He was behaving like a fool.

“Felicity, I feel tired, would you mind accompanying me to my chambers?” Moira said.

“And our reading?” Felicity asked.

Moira waved her hand at her “It can wait, we’ve heard enough ridiculous fables from my son. Come, Felicity, let us be off.”

Moira grabbed her walking cane and Felicity lurched forward to help her up and support her mistress as they walked out of the room.

To Moira’s credit she only opened her mouth once they were sat safely in her chambers.

Felicity had started untangling the ribbons from her hair and Moira couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“What was my son talking about with all these women who bathe naked in the woods?” Moira asked.

“I do not know, my lady, truly,” Felicity replied.

Moira sighed quietly. “I love the both of you dearly, Felicity, but Oliver is a nobleman.”

Felicity hurried to shake her head, “It is not what you think, my lady. I’ll admit that your son has made an impression on me, but - “ she trailed off.

“But from the looks of things you have made an impression on him as well.” Moira finished the sentence for her. “When a nobleman is taken with a pretty young lady, it doesn’t take much for him to have his way with her.”

“Not his lordship.” Felicity murmured.

“And why not?” Moira objected, “Oliver is a man, Felicity. Surely you’ve heard stories.”

“I shall be careful, my lady, I promise.” Felicity said as she removed her mistress’ necklace and placed it into the jewelry box on the vanity.

“Being careful is not enough, girl, you must keep as far away from him as you can. As well as to stop some certain visits to the forest,” Moira said.

* * *

 

So much for her promise to keep her distance from Lord Oliver when the first person she saw upon exiting Lady Moira’s chambers was Oliver. Oliver who was leaning leisurely against a side table as if he had nothing better to do than wait for her to come out.

“Is my mother resting?” he asked Felicity, pushing himself off the table.

“Yes, my lord,” Felicity nodded and made an attempt to quickly walk down the hall.

Oliver was quicker and he cut off her path by coming to a stop in front of her. That same self-satisfied cheeky expression on his face from earlier.

“I would like to retire to my room as well, my lord, with your permission.” Felicity curtsied quickly and made a move to the other direction

“Oh, but I cannot. Not until you’ve satisfied me.” Oliver grinned at her.

Felicity stopped short and whipped her head around to face him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you not recall your promise?” Oliver asked, not stopping her this time, but rather opting to walk briskly beside her.

“No, my lord, you have me at a loss.” Felicity squeaked nervously, with growing distress.

“You made me a promise, madam, it’s only fair you fulfill it.” Oliver stated.

“I have made you no promises!” Felicity exclaimed, stopping once again.

“And the tragedy?” Oliver whispered behind her.

He was too close to her. Too close than what was appropriate.

“Won’t you read to me?” Oliver inquired, circling around Felicity.

“The tragedy,” Felicity sighed with a smile.

The man was infuriating, for sure.

“Surely you did not think I meant anything else?” Oliver asked, putting some distance between them.

“No, my lord, I thought of no other things.” Felicity hurried to assure him.

“I shall read to you tomorrow, my lord. It would not be fair to exclude your mother.” Felicity stammered out, looking for any excuse to get away from him.

She started walking again and he followed in her footsteps. He made no more requests until they reached her quarters. It was only when she attempted to go in that he stood in her way again.

“For some adventures, mothers should be left out.” Oliver told her, referring to their earlier conversation.

“Exactly, my lord, adventures that proper ladies should avoid.” Felicity stated with a smile.

When she saw that he still won’t budge, she resorted to desperate measures and hoped they won’t blow up in her face.

She stepped on his boot with enough force to make him remove it.

“Oh silly me, I can be so clumsy sometimes,” Felicity exclaimed, feigning regret, as Oliver stepped to the side to get away from her vicious feet. “I do beg your pardon, sire, goodnight!”

With that she walked into her chambers and closed the door tightly behind her, leaving a smiling Oliver on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you frustrated with Lyla - don't give up on her. The plot will thicken in the next chapter and Lyla's story is yet to be revealed. 
> 
> I always enjoy your feedback so do let me know how you like the new chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone worries for Felicity, a long awaited ball, an unpleasant reunion, and a tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: SUICIDE
> 
> I hope the fact that this chapter is 22 pages long will begin to make up for the stupidly long wait you've all waited.

******Starling Manor:**

Felicity was preparing for bed when a knock on the door, followed by Raisa’s entry, startled her. She smiled at the older woman. Sometimes it felt like Raisa was her only friend in this place.

“Rumour has it you’ve had an exciting day” Raisa said, coming to sit on the bed beside her and taking the comb from Felicity’s hand.

She started combing through Felicity’s hair slowly and meticulously in a way that reminded Felicity very much of what her mother used to do. She often found Raisa’s presence calming, like a balm for the times she desperately wished she could be with her own mother. 

The manor wasn’t far from the village her mother and little sister lived, but being Lady Moira’s companion meant opportunities to visit them didn’t present themselves often. Especially lately, what with Lady Moira’s heath being as frail as it was. To her mistress’ credit, she did let Felicity take the odd day off to go visit her mother and sister. 

Felicity still remembered the letter she received two months ago that informed her Thea was sick with fever. To this day, it was the most worried she has ever been since her father’s passing. Diggle and Raisa had been her pillars then. The doctor, with his medical expertise, and Raisa with helping her care for her mother and stopping by to check on them whenever she had an errand at the market.

Raisa was everything to Felicity - a sister, a mother, and a friend all at once.

“This is new,” Raisa remarked softly between her strokes with the comb.

Felicity raised an eyebrow at her silently and looked at Raisa’s reflection in her small looking glass.

“Since when do you comb your hair before bed, Felicity?” Raisa asked, suspiciously.

Felicity shrugged, her cheeks suddenly aflame. “I read that this is what one is supposed to do. A hundred strokes in the morning and another hundred before bed.” 

She could tell by Raisa’s silence that her attempt at nonchalance fell on deaf ears. Instead, her friend just continued brushing the knots out of Felicity’s hair.

“Just as long as you are careful not to fall into the looking glass, my dear,” Raisa told her with a smile. 

Felicity stiffened in her seat and turned in the chair so she could face Raisa.

“What is the matter with you? You’ve been talking nonsense ever since you arrived.” she said, unable to hide her frustration.

“You’re the one who has been behaving in a nonsensical way lately,” Raisa replied.

Felicity huffed, she was starting to become annoyed.

“Is there a reason you’re speaking in riddles, Raisa?” Felicity asked, pulling away to the side so that Raisa couldn’t brush her hair anymore.

Raisa sighed, and let the comb down on the small vanity in front of Felicity.

“There’s a rumour going around that Lord Oliver has expressed interest in you and that you do not discourage that interest,” Raisa explained, “Someone saw the two of you together,” 

Felicity took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, in a very unladylike manner. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who that ‘someone’ was. At the same time though, she found it quite difficult to suppress a smile at hearing Raisa state that Oliver showed interest at her. For a while there it seemed to Felicity she may have been reading into things.

“Well I can assure you that this ‘someone’ has been ill-informed and that they ought not meddle in other people’s affairs. Besides, I can hardly be held accountable for Lord Oliver’s actions.” Felicity said, with a small smile. 

“You need to be careful, Felicity,” Raisa warned her, “Have you told him you’re from the household staff?” 

The smile on Felicity’s face disappeared. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh dear girl, it has everything to do with it,” Raisa sighed and reached to hug Felicity from behind. “Be careful, or you will find yourself in a mess bigger than you can handle.” she added and kissed the top of Felicity’s head affectionately.

Later, once Raisa had left and Felicity was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, she acknowledged silently how right Raisa’s words were. Of course she knew it already, but whatever this thing going on between her and Lord Oliver was, was fun and exciting. It was an experience she did not get to have often around the manor, where if she wasn’t dealing with Helena and Carrie’s pettiness, it would be Lady Lyla’s dislike of her, or Barry’s occasional over attentiveness, or the fear Lady Moira’s episodes inspired in her.

She knew to be careful and she had every intention to be.

* * *

 

**Starling Village, the next day**

With both Lady Lyla and Lord Oliver being home to attend to their mother, Felicity had been dismissed of her duties for the day by an excited Lady Moira after breakfast. Felicity had thanked her for her kindness and wished her a good day before leaving the room in a hurry. Before Lady Moira could read the sadness on Felicity’s face. Sadness born of knowing that Lady Moira’s happiness was bound to be cut short when Lord Oliver left again to rejoin his battalion. 

It was a rare sunny day in Starling and Felicity decided to go into the village on her way to calling on Carly. She asked one of the stable hands to help her saddle a horse and then took off. 

She made her way slowly through the busy streets, her horse’s pace a slow trot, greeting villagers she passed by. She’d just passed by the baker when a horrible wail reached her ears and startled her.

“Leave me alone, you evil hag! Leave me alone!” 

Felicity’s heart broke at the sound of the cry. She turned to her left towards the local inn and sure enough young William was being chased around by Mrs Lambert, the innkeeper, who was waving her broom violently as she hurled curses at the boy.

Mrs Lambert was a woman not much younger than Raisa and she and absolute horrible disposition. She was quick to anger, demanding, and quite bitter with her lot in life. Therefore she jumped at the chance to make anyone’s life miserable when opportunity arose. 

Yet Felicity knew she couldn’t blame whatever predicament had befallen the boy solely on Mrs Lambert. William was a bright and hard-working child, but he also had a penchant for getting himself into trouble. 

The villagers simply turned a blind eye to the two quarrelling persons, since it wasn’t all that unusual to see the innkeeper chase the young boy around. For a moment there, Felicity thought to simply be on her way, but that thought was squashed as soon as Mrs Lambert caught up to William.

Felicity hurried to get off her horse and pull it in their direction. That woman knew no mercy and whatever William’s done it couldn’t possibly be bad enough to deserve a beating from her.

William seemed to be the first to notice her coming in their direction so he squeezed out of Mrs Lambert’s grasp and ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards Felicity. He barreled into her, clutching at her thighs and Felicity hurried to stand between him and his mistress who was approaching him angrily,

“Help me, Felicity!” William whimpered from behind.

“Well, well, look who it is! Madame Felicity,” Mrs Lambert spat as she came to stand in front of Felicity. “You’d better take that little bastard if you are so fond of him, because I am certainly at my limits of tolerating his disobedience. He’s much too young to allow himself such indiscretions!” Mrs Lambert added, trying to get around Felicity.

“What has he done this time?” Felicity asked, blocking Mrs Lambert’s moves every time she made an attempt to get around him.

“What do you care!? Didn’t you find yourself a position in that big mansion as a mistress? Aren’t you too important to bother yourself with the affairs of us common folk, eh? Now move so I can teach this rascal a proper lesson!” Mrs Lambert shouted, waving her broom again.

“I haven’t done anything!” William yelled from behind Felicity. 

His words only seemed to anger Mrs Lambert more, since she was now trying to push Felicity out of her way.

“Enough, Mrs Lambert! Enough! Let him be!” Felicity insisted, grabbing hold of the broom in order to try and counter the innkeeper's attempts to get to the boy.

At this point there was no more pressure against, Felicity’s legs, William had ran away to hide in a small cove near the stone fence. Felicity couldn’t blame him.

“Well excuse me for not living by your rules in my own inn! Move away you stupid girl!” Mrs Lambert shouted again.

Felicity managed to wrestle the broom out of the innkeeper’s hands. 

“You so much as touch that boy, Mrs Lambert, and you’ll answer to me,” Felicity declared, pointing the sharp end of the broom at her.

“Look at you, Madame, all high and mighty,” Mrs Lambert snapped at her, “You may work in a fancy castle now, but I know who you are. I know where you come from and what you’re worth! I still remember how you swept the floors of my inn! I will not forget, do you hear me?! I will not!” With that the older woman wrestled her broom back from Felicity’s hand and spat furiously at the ground at Felicity’s feet.

Felicity waited before Mrs Lambert stomped angrily back to her inn and slammed the door behind her, before turning around and facing William.

She walked towards him and only once she was standing next to him saw the boy fiddle with a couple of coins in his small hands.

“William, where did you get these?” Felicity asked.

The boy looked at her in defiance, “They’re mine! I’ve earned them, that hag never pays me my wages,” he said, clutching the coins harder, for fear Felicity might try to take them away.

“If she never pays you, how come you have them,” Felicity asked him again, raising an eyebrow at the boy. 

“I took them,” William said unapologetically.

Felicity sighed, knowing a lost cause when she saw one. On one hand she wanted to lecture the boy about stealing and to teach him how regardless of his motives stealing was never right. But on the other hand, she knew perfectly well how stubborn this boy could be and that talking to him now, while he was still riled up would be no good. Her words will just go in through one ear and out through the other.

Instead, she decided that now she had him with her, she could do something more useful with both their time, since William would be wise not to return to the inn until Mrs Lambert had cooled off.

She reached into her small satchel and pulled a book out of it. It was worn and well used and she had planned to give it to Carly, but she figured her friend could wait.

William groaned as soon as he saw the book in her hands and his defiant stance deflated, his shoulders sagged and his feet dragged as he approached Felicity, who sat on a small wooden stool next to the fence.

“No, please, I don’t want to,” he pleaded with her. 

Instead Felicity pulled him closer so he could sit onto her lap and opened the book, “William, how many times do I need to tell you that knowing how to read is important.”

“It’s useless, is what it is,” William murmured.

Felicity sighed, “Why do you think Lady Moira took me into her service? If I could not read I would have still been trapped working in that horrible inn,” Felicity said, motioning in the direction of Mrs Lambert.

“Now, let us revise your letters,” she said, effectively putting a stop to any further objections from the boy.

Felicity arrived at Carly Diggle’s doorstep later than expected and apologized for her tardiness. Having missed lunch time, Felicity offered Carly join her for a stroll along the lake, knowing how much Carly loved it there. 

Eventually they sat on a big rock overlooking the water and Felicity proceeded to tell Carly of her impression of her Master and the encounters she’s had with him. 

She’d just finished telling Carly about stepping on his foot in order to get to her quarters when she noticed the preoccupied expression on her friend’s face.

“What is the matter, Carly?” Felicity asked her, putting her hand on the other woman’s knee. 

“You scare me, Felicity,” Carly replied quietly, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “You’re too cheery about this,” 

Felicity had to resist the urge to scoff at her friend, “Is that a sin?” 

“Not yet,” Carly said sternly, her posture becoming stiff.

This time Felicity couldn’t hold back her reaction. She let out a small huff of laughter.

“Oh Carly, you are not going to tell me to be careful as well, are you? Are you going to warn me about how one day he might catch me in his arms and compromise my honour?” Felicity said with a smile. 

Her words seemed to have the exact opposite effect on her friend, than Felicity hoped. Carly’s expression turned from serious to downright grave.

“You do not understand the situation you are in,” Carly said, “You are joking about this incident as if it were an amusing prank when it is more than obvious that you are attracted to your Master,” 

Felicity shook her head and let out a sound of protest at her words.

“Look at yourself, Felicity, you’re more excited than I’ve seen you in a while,”

“I just wanted to make you smile and I thought this story might do it,” Felicity explained with an apologetic smile. “Besides, I have not done -”

“-anything wrong,” Carly cut her off, finishing the sentence for her. 

Felicity sobered up at her words and pulled back from her friend ever so slightly.

“Oh very well,” she huffed, “I think he is handsome and kind. But how does my acknowledging that translate into my being interested in him? It is not as if I’ve said I wish he would wed me!” 

“But that is just the thing!” Carly’s voice raised ever so slightly and she reached to grab Felicity’s hands. “You mustn’t even think it! Stay away from him and whatever you do, do not let it happen,”

“Let what happen?” Felicity asked with a laugh.

“Please do not laugh at the matter, you frighten me when you do.” Carly’s voice turned pleading, “You remind me so much of myself and my own grand illusions which served no purpose other than ruining mine and John’s lives.”

Felicity’s face softened at her friend’s words. It made her sad to hear Carly speaking so because she knew that John loved her with his entire heart and that Carly was his world. 

“Do not fret for me, dearest, the same fate will not befall me, I assure you,” Felicity told her, “The Earl will never wed me,” 

At this point, Felicity let go of Carly’s hand and stood up to stand opposite her friend.

“He plans to leave soon to rejoin his battalion,” Felicity explained and then stepped forward to grab both of Carly’s palms and pull her in for a hug, “Until then, I promise I shall not let him come near me with his big, filthy, hands!” she added with a laugh and finally managed to make Carly smile as well.

They walked back at a leisurely pace towards the Diggle residence only to find a frantic John calling Carly’s name on their front yard,

“I am here, beloved,” Carly called out to him as soon as they were within his earshot. 

John hurried towards her and took her hands in his.

“Where have you been? I came home and you were not there, I worried - “ John said, squeezing his wife’s hands tightly.

“You worry too much, we took a stroll by the lake.” Carly assured him with a smile and let go of his hands to run a hand against his cheek,

Her gesture seemed to comfort him because he looked to the side to Felicity and greeted her warmly, apologizing for not acknowledging her presence earlier.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, one of my patients gifted me with a wonderful pheasant,” John offered Felicity as the three of them walked towards the modest house.

“Thank you for your offer but I must decline,” Felicity said ruefully, “It is getting late and I must return to the manor,”

“For the celebration?” John guessed, peering at Felicity around his wife’s shoulder as they walked.

Carlie’s footsteps came to a halt. 

“What celebration?” she asked, looking from Felicity to her husband.

“It is in the honour of Oliver,” Felicity explained, “that is  _ Master Oliver, _ ” she hurried to correct herself.

“His lady mother decided to throw a ball for his return home,” Felicity said.

All traces of Carly’s good mood disappeared as she turned to face her husband.

“And of course, you were not invited,” she said, her voice full of sorrow.

“I would much rather enjoy a quiet supper with you, than be in the company of others,” he said.

Carly offered him a smile in return, but it did not escape John’s notice that it did not reach her eyes.

* * *

 

**Starling Manor**

Oliver was in the gardens, as per his Lady Mother’s request, strolling about and barely overseeing the garden decorations for the event. He could not care at all for any of it. 

A decorated carriage came to a halt on the lawn, causing Oliver to turn his attention towards the arrival. The ball was not set to start until sundown, therefore it was much too early for any guests. As soon as he recognized the person stepping down from the carriage he wished to have anything to oversee or  busy himself with just so that he would not have to deal with the fool approaching him.

Alas the mercy of the fates was not on his side today.

He watched the portly, overly coiffed man waddle towards him. 

“Brother, you have returned!” Marques Sebastian Blud called out, extending his hands in greeting towards Oliver.

A much too friendly greeting, in Oliver’s opinion, considering the two of them did a poor job of masking their dislike for one another.

“Hello Sebastian,” Oliver greeted him with a handshake instead and tried to sound as civil as he could. It would do him no good to upset his brother-in-law before the ball. His mother and sister would not let him hear the end of it if he did.

“I’ve heard that you’ve returned home,” Sebastian said much to gleefully for his sentiment to be sincere, “Pray for how long will we be blessed with your company?”

“In other words, you wish to know when I plan to leave?” Oliver asked him back with a smile. There was a beat of awkward silence, after which both men burst out in equally boring laughter.

Oliver wished he was anywhere else but here.

“It took your presence here to make this place liven up a little. Rumour has it, Secretary Palmer will be attending the celebration tonight,” Sebastian said and headed towards a table of refreshments, leaving Oliver no choice but to follow him.

“That would be my mother’s doing,” Oliver sighed, “She considers it to be a great honour,” he really did not wish to talk about that man.

“And it is so, to be sure,” Sebastian announced. “I’ve heard that the Secretary is not a beloved man in these regions,” he continued, “apparently he had a hand in suggesting the current reforms to His Majesty - “

Whatever else his brother-in-law was droning on about completely escaped Oliver’s notice. He was much too occupied at watching Miss Felicity ride in through the front gate of the manor all the way across the gardens. 

It fascinated him, the way she rode so expertly, made him wonder how she learned to ride astride rather than sidesaddle, as most ladies were taught. Her hair was whipping freely behind her as she rode, making her curls fly in every direction.

“A lovely creature, don’t you think?” Sebastian’s words pulled him out of his stupor.

It took him a moment before he realized, Sebastian had been talking about Miss Felicity. His posture stiffened immediately and a coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. He absolutely did not appreciate the lewd undertones of his question.

“She is a lady, dear sir, a lady,” Oliver told him with a fake smile plastered on his lips, “Come now, my sister must be waiting to hear you’ve arrived safely,” Oliver said, ushering his pig of a brother-in-law inside the manor and hopefully, far from Miss Felicity’s presence.

* * *

 

The ball was in full swing. The main ballroom was overflowing with guests, most of which Oliver did not know. What very few he was familiar with he barely remembered. He was stationed at his mother’s side, with Lyla and Sebastian standing stiffly at her other side as they greeted the arriving guests, one after another. At that point, Oliver would have preferred to be stabbed in the shoulder with a rusty blade. 

However, one arrival managed to cheer him up - Thomas strolled in fashionably late and with a beautiful lady on his arm with anoher young woman and an older gentleman following closely behind them.

Thomas and the woman at his arm greeted everyone politely, Tommy kissed his mother’s hand and then turned his attention to Oliver.

“Brother,” Oliver greeted him with a genuine smile and reached over to embrace him, “Thank goodness you made it, I was starting to despair,” 

Tommy laughed in response and pulled back, only to bring the lady closer to them.

“Oliver you remember Marques Lance and his daughters,” Thomas said, motioning to the older gentleman who was now greeting his mother. 

“The lady behind the Marques is his younger daughter Laurel and this beautiful gem,” Tommy motioned to the woman at his side, “Is Sara,” 

Sara curtsied to Oliver with a gentle smile, “My Lord Queen, Thomas has told me a lot about you,” 

Oliver returned the gesture and kissed the palm of her hand briefly, “All good things, I hope,” he smiled.

“Of course,” Sara replied gently.

“Thomas, she is a wonder, however I fear she’s much too good for you,” Oliver teased his friend who burst out laughing at his words.

“You are not wrong there, brother,” Tommy admitted with a grin.

Before they could continue his conversation, Lady Moira called Oliver’s attention to her, as he was neglecting his duties. With one exhasparated sigh, Oliver let his friend go and returned to his mother’s side.

“Finally a breath of fresh air in this dreadfully bland room,” Oliver could just barely hear Sebastian say. 

His brother-in-law was leaning towards his sister and speaking just loud enough to avoid his Lady Mother’s hearing, but what made Oliver’s blood boil was the fact that Sebastian’s attention was not at all directed at his wife, but rather at Miss Laurel who was walking languidly by the refreshments table. 

He would have a talk with Sebastian later on.

The evening took a turn for the worst when the guest of honour arrived. Much too late and hopefully not for long. 

Marques Raymond Palmer strutted into Oliver’s ballroom as if he owned the place. His coiffed and made up wife walking alongside him with her ostentatious dress and jewelry. Both greeted his mother as if they were old friends. Luckily for Oliver, he was all the way at the other side of the ballroom, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“You invited  _ her? _ ” Thomas’ astounded whisper came from his left.

“My mother did, I had nothing to do with it,” Oliver said sourly.

“She looks absolutely stunning, Isabel,” Thomas commented and Oliver wanted to punch him in the side, “Even after all those years,”

“Unfortunately, she knows it, too,” Oliver murmured and downed the rest of his drink.

The two men observed the couple walk around the ballroom and greeting their acquaintances. 

“And to think, you’ve held her in your arms all those years ago,” Tommy said casually,

This time Oliver did reach with his elbow to jab him in the side. 

“Enough, Thomas! Her husband is right there,” he protested.

Thomas’ only response was to laugh heartily, “I am hardly saying anything that his lordship is unaware of… After all, dearest Isabel has a certain reputation of being of a quite…  _ passionate  _ character, if you recall… But then again you should, you know her better than I do,”

Oliver sighed, “I  _ thought _ I knew her, Tommy. Hell I even thought I loved her once,” 

“Very well, I understand,” Tommy sighed, “You are yet to forgive her and you would rather ruin my fun. Either way, you should greet them, they are here to celebrate your return home after all,” 

Oliver hated that Thomas’ words made sense. But before he could so much as protest, Thomas had left his side for the favour of his beloved and no amount of discreet calling on Oliver’s behalf would bring him back.

Reluctantly, Oliver dragged his feet towards the Marques and his wife. 

He seemed to interrupt a somewhat heated conversation between Marques Lance and another Gentleman Oliver couldn’t be bothered to place with Lord Palmer. By the sound of things they were protesting the King’s new reforms which were not in favour of the aristocracy.

He interrupted them politely and introduced himself to the couple, thanking them for their presence and waxing on about how honoured he was to welcome them to his home. 

Lord Palmer greeted him coldly, as per Thomas’ words, the man was well aware of Oliver’s past with his wife and he absolutely detested Oliver for it. Oliver did not blame the man at all, and did not mourn his lack of affection in the slightest.

Meeting Isabel face to face, after all these years, was a different matter. He’d sworn to himself that he was over her. That he had put her betrayal behind him and moved on, yet seeing her in all her glamour standing just a couple of steps away from him brought those feelings right up to the surface. He had to swallow the bitterness in order to greet her, and he had a hard time looking away from her smug expression. Even after all these years, she did not show even the slightest bit of remorse at breaking his heart. 

He was forced to look away once Palmer asked him for his opinion on the new reforms and whether he was planning on joining the side of the other nobles in his region who have voiced their displeasure. 

Oliver was stumped as to what to tell the man, he wasn’t one for politics, he detested them, in fact. But by some Grace of the Heavens he was spared a reply because his darling sister saw that moment to interrupt their little group so she could usher them towards the balcony where they could watch the fireworks.

Oliver followed a step behind his sister towards the balcony and waited until everyone’s attention was grabbed by the light show to quietly beg off into a quieter area of the house. He didn’t like fireworks much. Sure they were quite impressive to look at, but the loud noises they made rather reminded him of the battlefield and those were memories he didn’t wish to revisit without due cause.

He walked aimlessly towards one of the side rooms of the main ballroom only to stumble upon non other than Sebastian and the younger Miss Lance in a very compromising position.

“Is something the matter, Sebastian?” He addressed his brother in law coldly and watched with satisfaction as the bastard jumped and hurried to put as much distance between him and Laurel as he could without falling face first into the pool table.

“We were just -” the Marques stuttered awkwardly.

“Having a game of pool?” Oliver supplied for him with an acidic smile.

“Quite so, indeed!” Sebastian hurried to confirm.

Oliver took immense pleasure in making the man sweat like a schoolboy in front of him. If he had no qualms disrespecting his sister in her own home and under her very nose he would very well suffer the consequences.

“It seems I’ve interrupted your private lesson,” Oliver said, making sure to emphasise the last couple of words, so that both of them knew he was well aware as to what they were doing.

“Tell me Miss Lance,” Oliver addressed her with a smile, “Are you quite satisfied with his teachings? He’s quite the poor player,”

To her credit, Laurel had the sense not to fall into Oliver’s game, but rather shuffled awkwardly around the Marques, mumbling about needing to find her sister.

His brother-in-law however, seemed to lack any and all sense and decorum because he surged after Laurel, calling her name, and not sparing Oliver a second glance.

* * *

 

**Meanwhile at the Diggle residence:**

John led Carly to the dinner table and hoped she would find it to her liking. He’d lit their candles around the room and decorated the table with a small cup filled with her favourite flowers from their garden. The plates and cutlery were set and ready to use and the roasted pheasant’s pleasantly filled the room.

He pulled a chair for her to sit and went to the cupboard to retrieve a bottle of brandy they kept only for the most special of occassions. He knew the talks of the celebration at Starling Manor bothered her still and he was set on treating her like a queen tonight.

He saw her in tears when he returned to the table. 

John hurriedly set the bottle at the table, not much caring where it lands so that he could kneel in front of Carly and comfort her.

Carly, who was distraught over the way the local nobles had slighted John by not inviting him to Oliver’s ball. According to her he had every right to be there and to enjoy himself as they did.

“Instead, you are stuck in this miserable house with a useless maid for a wife, John, oh what have I done to you?! I’ve ruined both our lives. You could have been there, dressed in luxurious fabrics and with a beautiful lady for a wife, if only you hadn’t met me!” she wailed softly.

John’s heart broke to pieces and he wished he knew how to help her. His salves, poultices and potions were of no use to Carly. All the knowledge in his books seemed useless to better her condition.

“Dearest, there is no place I would rather be than here and there is no one else I would rather share it with than you,” John assured her and grabbed onto her hands, to squeeze them gently.

“I care nothing for the approval of the nobility. We live a good modest life, we have the gratitude and appreciation of the local villagers, that is all I need,” he continued comforting her, but he had a feeling his words were falling on deaf ears. 

A knock on the door disrupted any further attempt of his to comfort her. John got up reluctantly and went to open the door. The hour was quite late and John knew whoever was looking for them would not be making a social call at this hour.

He turned out to be right. It was one of the local farmers who’d come looking for help with his youngest son, who was having trouble breathing. The man was desperate and John did not have the heart to turn him away.

John grabbed his cloak, hat and medical bag and called over the stable hand they kept to saddle his cart. 

By the time he turned back to face his wife, Carly looked significantly calmer and had a small smile on her lips.

“You’d better go, dearest,” Carly told him and caressed his cheek lovingly.

“I will do my best not to be too late,” John promised her “I did wish I could have supper with you,”

“It is quite all right,” Carly hurried to assure him and stepped in to give him a kiss goodbye.” Remember, I love you,”

John ushered the farmer out the door and Carly followed them to the door, keeping watch until they disappeared from view.

Her mind was already made up.

* * *

Later that evening, Queen Manor:

The orchestra had just started playing yet another dance when Thomas had taken Sara’s hand and urged Oliver to find a dance partner of his own. 

Oliver watched his best friend and his intended sway across the ballroom as if they had not a care in the world and for a moment he wished he had someone to experience it with as well. His eyes swept the ballroom, looking at one extravagant lady to the next and none drew his attention. 

He was just about to give up when his eyes fell on Miss Felicity, who was standing at the back of the room alongside his niece. Her dress was by no means ornate compared to the other ladies present, in fact it was downright a simple one, but the bright red made her skin glow and complemented her beautifully. Her face was fully visible for him to appreciate, for once not obscured by her curls, which were neatly picked up in a bun and held together by small red flowers. 

She was a vision to behold. And to hold her he desired.

He approached the two of them  with a smile on his face and complimented both on their attires. Causing his young niece to giggle appreciatively and Miss Felicity to look down at her feet, her cheeks colouring just the slightest bit.

She wore no jewelry or adornments, yet she shone brighter than the shiniest diamonds.

“May I have this dance?” Oliver asked her

“I am only accompanying your niece tonight, My Lord,” Felicity protested softly.

Oliver grinned and stole a glance at Emily, who was positively giddy at this point.

“I am sure my niece would not mind, isn’t that right, my lovely girl?” Oliver addressed Emily with a playful wink.

The girl was too happy to send Felicity on her way and content to watch as both Felicity and Oliver made their way to the dance floor.

The music stopped. Oliver could see and hear the whispers. He did not care to distinguish their meanings, but they stumped him nevertheless. You would think he’d asked the Devil for a dance, rather than the beautiful lady tending to his mother.

He positioned Felicity next to Lady Sara and he went to stand across from her next to Thomas.

“Are you not all here to celebrate my return home?” He asked loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention to him. “Go on then! Maestro, a dance!” he prompted impatiently.

The music began again and Oliver positioned himself for a minuet. 

Felicity was by no means a flawless dancer, but then again, neither was he. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced at a formal event like this. She did not seem to mind whatever clumsiness he exhibited and he found he did not mind hers at all.

They kept on dancing and soon enough everything around them faded away. The whispers, the few glances he caught of his exasperated mother and furious-looking sister. All gone. There was only him, Felicity, and the music.

Felicity relaxed in his arms and he found himself pulling her closer than what was probably appropriate for an event like this. She did not seem to mind, and he marvelled at the opportunity to have her so close. She wore no perfume, but her presence intoxicated him. 

A relaxed Felicity was more prone to smiles, Oliver found out and couldn’t help but return the sentiment in kind. 

But then the music came to an end and whatever spell they were under dispersed in the stuffy air of the ballroom. Once again, the room was silent, all eyes directed at him and Felicity.

He could feel her tense next to him and knew that the attention must have bothered her. So he let her go. He let her hurry back to his niece and whisper at her ear before she ushered Emily out of the ballroom. 

His solitude didn’t last long, however, because soon he was approached by the one person he wished to avoid at all costs.

“That look in your eyes was reserved only for me, once,” Isabel commented as she fanned herself with her silk fan.

“You are right. Once.” Oliver told her stiffly. 

“It seems you have not forgiven me yet, Oliver,” Isabel smiled at him delicately.

“Not only have I forgiven you, My Lady, but I have also forgotten any association with you. The only reason you are present tonight is because my mother wishes it so.” Oliver replied.

He was spared her answer and any further unpleasantries by a commotion at the entrance of the ballroom - a man was trying to push through the servants.

A man who was desperately calling for their help to look for his missing wife. A man no other than John Diggle.

He took a step towards the man, only to be stopped by Thomas. 

“Do not,” Thomas whispered to him.

Oliver looked at him incredulously, not believing his friend’s words. Once upon a time the three of them were the closest of friends and now Thomas would turn his back on John?

“Will you not help?” Oliver asked him quietly.

“No,” Thomas’ answer was resolute.

It was answer enough fo Oliver. He pushed through the nobility until he had his former friend in his sights. 

“John!” he called out and watched as John rushed out towards him.

“Oliver, I beg you, my wife has disappeared! She is unwell, I need help forming a search party.” John Diggle was desperate as he pleaded as if for his own life.

Oliver wasted no time, barking orders at the servants to join him, when it became clear none of the nobles in the room could be bothered to show some decency. He led John out of the ballroom and towards the main gate. Social rules be damned.

They rode towards the woods near the lake as John had already searched the village and Carly was also nowhere on the way to the mansion.

Oliver and John dismounted their rides and Oliver proceeded to direct his servants where to look. He sent Barry to the village to gather men and told him to say he’s been sent by the Earl of Starling to do so. 

The torches offered little to no light in the darkness, but the men plowed on, with Oliver determined not to rest until Diggle’s wife was found.

A loud wail tore him from his search and he spun on his heel to see his friend kneeling at the edge of a water, clutching something to his chest. Oliver ran to him and kneeled to his level.

“Oliver,” John whimpered and showed him the object he was clutching.

A woman’s slipper.

He followed John’s eyes as they scanned the area and then felt him freeze next to him.

His friend yelled desperately for his wife, more desperately than before and Oliver looked ahead to see the cause of his increased distress: ahead of them, sprawled across the shallows, all wet and ruined, lay a dressing gown. 

Realization seemed to dawn on them both as John threw his torch away and headed for the water. It took all of Oliver’s strength to hold him back. Going into the lake would cost him his life, but looking at the soft waves coming from the centre of the lake… maybe it already has.

Still, despite John’s thrashing, despite his gut wrenching cries, Oliver held onto his friend. 

“John, John!” Oliver called to him. “You are not going into the lake, let us find a boat, we shall look for her on the other coast,” 

His words seemed to give John some courage as he spurred into action and ran to one of the men, whom he knew to be a fisherman to beg him for his boat.

They spent all night searching and yielding no results. The men were combing the lake with the boat, and Oliver opted to stay on shore with John in case he decided to jump into the lake again.

It was only when the morning fog dispersed that the two of them saw that the fishermen were rowing back towards him. The sun rays lit the water and the sight in front of them was unmistakable. And horrifying.

John surged into the water and this time, Oliver did not dare stop him. The fishermen drew into the shallows as John threw himself towards them, taking his wife’s lifeless form in his arms and wailing like he’d been pierced by a thousand arrows.

Oliver’s heart broke for his friend. He hated that there was nothing he could do for him at this time.

“CARLY!” a terrified scream echoed behind him and he turned to see none other than Felicity running towards them. 

She was still dressed in her red gown and looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.

He hurried to catch her in his arms and hold her against him, lest she see Mrs Diggle in the condition she was in. But it was pointless, because Felicity was a smart woman and she had pieced together the meaning behind John’s heartbroken cries. 

She didn’t fight him as he held her and for that much Oliver was grateful. He comforted her as she sobbed against him, joined her on the sand as he knees collapsed underneath her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, I really do hope you haven't given up on this story although considering how long it's been since I've updated I honestly couldn't blame you if you have. But in case you haven't I want to apologize. 
> 
> A lot has happened in the past nine months, I graduated uni, moved to another country, my stepmother passed away so I've had to help take care of my brother, I started a job and also the hard drive I kept the series this AU is based on gave up on me and I lost all the episodes. Which is a contributing factor to delaying any updates. 
> 
> The good news is that I've managed to get my hands on them again and this time they're not getting away from me.

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is a fic set in the 18th century it will deal with the inequality between the sexes heavily. It will deal with social injustice and how servants were essentially the property of their masters. I realise it sounds preposterous to someone living in our age, but this is an XVII century AU. I can't apply XXI century values to it.
> 
> Reviews are the light at the end of the tunnel and are the favourite food of my muse.


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